My Beauty, My Beast
by Kates
Summary: Imagine...a prince under the curse of an evil wizard, a maiden who is his only hope, and a fate destined to become reality, in a world where nothing is impossible... Finished!
1. Beauty

Author's note: I hope you find this to your enjoyment. Please r&r – I would very much appreciate it!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the fairy tales in here. I own _faeries _and _faery _tales, but not _fairy_ tales, which are a different thing entirely.

A love story –

Of the price paid for a rose. Of a prince who was cursed to be a monster. 

And of the girl who changed his heart.

My Beauty, My Beast

Beauty:

Once upon a time…

_There was once a very rich merchant, who had…a daughter…called Beauty…_

The name I was given on the breezy, early spring day of my christening – fourteen days after my birth – was Arielle Honorine Bellissima Rose Laclarien. However, the first _true_ name that I ever had came from my mother, as she lay dying with nursemaids and midwives hovering about her during her last moments of life. "Rosebud," she had whispered, touching my head with her trembling, slender hand. "My little Beauty." And so I was called from then on.

Beauty. 

Rosebud. 

And sometimes Arielle.

* * *

Perhaps it had been the sadness of my mother's untimely death that endeared my father to me after her passing. Or perhaps it had been the fact that I looked so much like her that my presence in his life seemed to be a consolation for her death. At any rate, I don't know _what_ it was that made us become so close to one another, but I _am_ entirely certain that I loved my father more than anything, and he cherished me more than the air he breathed. 

I had no ordinary life as a child, with no proper family of a mother, father, sisters, and brothers and a house to live in with nurses, maids, butlers, footmen, and cooks bustling about on their business. Instead, my father took us on a whirlwind tour around the Known World, allowing us to visit every famous sight that there was. By the time I was seven, it had to be said that I knew quite a bit more about people, culture, and life in general than most of my peers. I loved my life with my father, and I loved the way that we never stayed in one city for long: three years, at the maximum, was our limit. I learned to see beyond people's faces and into their hearts, souls, and minds merely by studying their faces. If someone had told my father, "Oh, what a grand pleasure to see you!" I could instantly detect whether they meant just that or really, in their heart of hearts, "Oh, I wish the sky was falling! Rather that than _this_!" Thus was our life together, and we were as happy as mortals could possibly be.

Then, just before my eighth birthday, my father began to turn his thoughts towards plan concerning my future. He had long since marked that there were some – if only very _few_, however – disadvantages to my upbringing. I had never had the chance to be with other little girls of my own age and I had certainly never had a mother. Even the nursemaids that he occasionally hired to play with me and make sure that I went to sleep all right on the infrequent nights when he would have to be away from me never stayed long. And so, after much debate, which he kept shrewdly out of my knowledge, he decided that he would buy a grand house in the lustrous, grand city of Basilisk-Head, in the country Casilimoor, and that it was high time for him to remarry. 

That decision was _not_ made because he felt that he no longer cherished his wife's memory, but because I simply needed a woman in my live to love and nurture me as only a woman could. And what good fortune availed itself to him when into the midst of the crowded, people-filled streets of Basilisk-Head walked the lovely, enchanting, and supremely elegant Baroness Nelisia Argonté. 

* * *

The Baroness was quite an intriguing woman. Anyone could tell, by looking at her, that she had been quite a beauty in her younger days, for even at the age of a few years on the right side of thirty, she was still remarkably lovely of face. Her manner was of poise and refinement and her voice, low and velvety, was enthralling to hear. Although her title indicated a court position, it had only been given to her as the result of her first marriage to a baron – who had died less than five years into their marriage – but she was quite penniless otherwise. 

My father knew instantly, upon being introduced to her by a mutual friend at a party in Basilisk-Head, that he had met someone very uncommon, even in a city of such marvels. He wasn't the type of person to be completely taken in by someone's beauty or manners, however, and the match was not one of love-at-first-sight, although they did come away from it with affable regard towards one another. Nevertheless, Nelisia seemed to be in our lives for good by then. My father acknowledged her once at the Cathedral of the Three – blessed may They ever be – and I, innocent child that I was, asked him who the elegant lady all in mysterious, alluring black lace was, and he told me her name and that she was an acquaintance from a party that he had been to. 

They met once again at yet another party and had danced together, and, one day, Nelisia came to our house a short time after lunch as my father was once more bringing my mind back to my studies. She visited us for the brief span of five minutes and I was awed by her beauty and grace. She was so kind and warm, and so very happy to see me, as well, that I instantly adored her, as any child would after having been deprived of a mother for most of her young life. 

Nelisia began to visit more and more often, and she would take me out for tea and walks in the park, and we would nibble on delicate little sandwiches together and watch the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen walk by, and then go down to the canal together and feed our leftover bread to the snow-white swans who lived there. Papa took us out to dinner and operas, and I would sit still as the famous mezzo-sopranos, baritones, and others performed their songs, as _I_ reveled in the joy of being with my father and such an amazing, beautiful woman. 

As the months passed by, I was also allowed to visit her apartment – for she was not yet a complete citizen of the city, having only come to stay for a short while, she had thought – and she showed me all of her finery there. Even though she was not rich, Nelisia certainly wasn't in the poor house. She had gowns of lace, silk, taffeta, brocade, satin, and some other sparkling, ethereal fabric that I couldn't name, and a host of others, all fairly spilling out of her fine twin wardrobes. I tried on her jewelry and sniffed her perfume, and she showed me how I would, as a young lady one day, put on my makeup and style my hair in precarious coils and waves atop my head. 

She also told me that she had a daughter of her own, who was not too much younger than me: possibly only by a few months, if not less, she said. Someday, when that little girl came to Basilisk-Head, we would have to meet and she hoped that we would be the very best of friends.

Thus it was that Nelisia became so integrated into our little knot of love that my father decided to, at long last, commit himself to a settled life. He asked Nelisia to marry him late in the summer, months before my winter birthday, and she accepted. Before I knew what was happening, I was standing to the side of an altar as a white-robed priest wedded my father and the Baroness, bringing them into a state of lawful and blessed matrimony under the holy and revered rule of the sovereign Three.

* * *

I remember every detail of the ceremony: how Papa had spoken his vows quietly and firmly, with much warmth and affection in his voice, and how the gems in the rings on Nelisia's fingers had sparkled when he lifted her hand to place the wedding band on it, and how beautiful she looked in the filmy, pure white bride's gown with her delicate lace mantilla. I had worn a new gown of the softest, most luxurious pale pink velvet that I had ever felt, with lace and tiny pearls studding it here and there. On my head, crowning my pale blond locks, was a circlet of velvety pink rosebuds. 

As soon as the wedding was over, my father, my new mother, and I had come to the reception to join our joyous guests. Nelisia was beaming, blushing and demure and quite scintillating with pleasure, as her friends congratulated her on her marriage and complimented Papa over and over again. 

Then, something happened.

Upon turning from Nelisia and seeing me as I lurked, shy and timid in the face of all the new and adult people who surrounded me, one person – an old friend of Nelisia's, from her debutante days – gasped and cried out, "Oh, what a little beauty! Is she yours?" 

My father proudly asserted this. Another gasp of delight. 

"Oh, she's just _dazzling_! Where on earth did she get her face? I can see that she has your nose and chin," for I did, "but her eyes, and her hair, and those lips: she's so lovely! Nelisia, aren't you afraid of this little one's competition?"

Behind me, I had sensed a change in Nelisia's air, and I had turned around to see what was the matter with her. She was looking at me and her eyes suddenly flashed – but it was so fast and so fleeting and so totally alien to my child's mind that I didn't understand it. Then, she smiled sweetly, once again the same Nelisia who had played with me and loved me, and patted the top of my head, and said, "Well, Arielle and I just _love_ each other. We'd never _dream_ of competing, would we, dearest?"

I shook my head, clearing off whatever it was that had passed between us the moment before, and smiled back.

"No, Baroness."

And so we began our lives together as a family. But little did I know that I had been mistaken that night about not one, but two things. First, that I would forever afterwards refer to Nelisia by her formal title, rather than as my mother. And second, that 'family' would turn out to be a _very_ misleading description of my relationship with my stepmother and stepsister. 

Only time itself would tell.

* * *

And now I bring you to a point in time about a month after Papa had wedded Nelisia. One day, she sent for her daughter: saying that, now that we were officially a family, we should all be together without delay. It went without saying that I was terribly excited about finally meeting my new sister. 

The day arrived and I was dressed up in one of my finest gowns, bubbling with anticipation. Nelisia, who had gone to fetch her daughter, alighted from the carriage first, handed out by one of the footmen. Papa put his hands on my shoulders as we stood at the head of the steps that led up to our house's front entrance and I could barely contain myself from running down to meet them. Nelisia faced us and announced, a cool smile playing about her curving lips, "Doran," which was my father's name, "Arielle, this is Tizirra, my daughter. Tizirra, darling…"

A small, lithe, girlish figure materialized from within the carriage's shadows and came to stand on the cobblestones beside her mother. I found myself looking at a face completely unlike my own. Tizirra had inherited her mother's dark, smooth brown hair and flawless skin, but her eyes were slate blue – Nelisia's were deep brown with flecks of gold in their irises – and her lips were somewhat thinner and her bones were less rounded and graceful. I supposed that was because she was still a child and not yet fully grown into her features. 

We stood there, staring at each other, and, for the first time in my life since that horrible moment at the wedding reception, I felt chilled to the very marrow of my bones, to the core of my soul, by the expressions in both Nelisia _and_ Tizirra's eyes. But Papa and Nelisia took us inside and I helped Tizirra and her mother unpack her trunk and other things, and got her settled into the house. 

And so it was.

* * *

All at once the merchant lost his whole fortune, excepting a small country house at a great distance from town, and told his children with tears in his eyes, they must go there and work for their living…

Several years passed. Tizirra and I grew somewhat older, into young ladies of twelve years, and sometimes I felt as if I was trapped in one of the horrible maze-of-mirrors houses at the festivals that we would go to. I couldn't explain what I felt towards Nelisia and Tizirra, but it wasn't what it had been before. Something had changed…but by the overall standards of things, we were a peaceful, if not contented family.

Then, one afternoon, my father came home from a visit to the docks – where news of his traveling ships, upon which his merchant's business rode, was received every now and then. I saw that his face was blank, haggard, and gray. Nelisia greeted him eagerly, but her face fell when she noticed his expression. 

"Papa, what is it?" I asked him, running to his side. 

He only shook his head, wordlessly, as he stared out the window of the grand parlor in which we stood, watching large drops of cold, depressing rain rolling down the glass. He moved his hand, and I saw a letter in it.

"The ships. They've all been lost – three, sunk by a storm far out at sea, and the other two…taken by pirates in a port somewhere in the deep south islands."

The horrible reality of what had happened dawned on us, and Nelisia fell, with a sharp, piercing cry that was almost a wail, into a chair behind us, as I stared at my father silently, trying not to show my own dismay at his words. Tizirra had also entered the room and was standing at her mother's side, stroking her hand and watching our father with her penetrating, cool eyes, bereft of all emotion. Papa shook his head again.

"We've lost everything."

* * *

It was decided that we should leave Basilisk-Head, since our house and practically all of our fine belongings would have to be sold in order to pay off the debts the we owed from our losses. Papa, before he had gone into the merchant business and married, had inherited from his long-deceased parents a cottage somewhere in the cold northern forests of a country known as Éindor. 

Since it was the only other house that he had owned ever during the last years since my birth, it was to this place that we would journey and begin our new life.

As farmers. 

Nelisia deplored the decision, but she kept her peace and did not say what she felt, as she was still quite a faithful and loyal wife who let my father make such major choices at this. Tizirra also did not seem to like the fact that we were leaving our beautiful home in Casilimoor, but she, like her mother, kept her thoughts bound in silence. I wasn't exactly sure _what_ I had thought about this newest change in my life at that time. I knew, without a doubt, that I would follow my father wherever he went, and what he wished to do, I also would do gladly. Of course, it would be harder living on a farm in a remote place like northern Éindor. Papa had described it as all endless fields of emerald grass, known as moors, and forests upon forests of tall, shadowy tress swathed in mist, holding the kinds of secrets that no one could guess at. 

Nelisia scoffed lightly at that, saying that he was telling us fairy tales. 

"What kind of world do you think we live in, darling?" she had asked him. "Magic and creatures from other worlds hardly frequent our lives anymore."

My father just smiled at her, and replied, "You never know. In Éindor, one of the greatest faery tales, actual _faery_ tales, mind you," he told a listening me and Tizirra, "Not simply the kind of tales that people make up – _real_ faery tales – started."

The story of King Arin and Queen Elladine.

It had been one of my favorites ever since he had first told it to me in my much younger years. Even at the age of twelve, nearly thirteen, I was still enthralled by the enchanting tale of the beautiful faery princess and her handsome enchanter love, who had traveled the entire country of Lærelin in search of a fabled city and finally conquered a great evil together, then lived in happiness ever afterwards as king and queen. 

"Yes, but even your so-called _real_ faery tales are somewhat far-fetched," Nelisia said, watching as our servants wrapped yet another crystal candlestick in linen, preparing to take it to be sold. It was a grim day that had to be faced in our house: our possessions were being removed and put up for sale, and my father was trying to keep our minds off of it by speaking of other things. Namely, our new life in Éindor. 

The very name of the country made my spine reverberate with thrills of some strange feeling of both excitement and anticipation…although I didn't know why. I turned back to my father.

"Why do you say that?" Papa asked his wife, fondly.

Nelisia sniffed and said, "Well, first off, it is said that they have lived out these three-hundred years since their marriage and coronation without aging a day. I know," she said to the look on my father's face, as he appeared about to add to her words, "They're immortal – but what good do you think having a good heart, a passably pretty face, and immortality is if you can't even use it to increase your standing in power? I haven't exactly heard of her Royal Lærelinorean Highness making any exceptional moves in politics or foreign affairs recently. And what about that pretty face anyway, Doran my love? In all likeliness, she uses night creams and grease paint to disguise the effects of aging on her features. Now come along, _really_!"

Papa simply smiled again and turned back to Tizirra and me, and said, "Four hundred years ago, before the War of the Crown," For so the events surrounding the story had come to be called, "Magic ran free in Éindor, with faeries and dragons and sprites and all sorts of creatures, whatever you can think of, gadding about like real people. And, no matter what anyone else may tell you, I believe that there is still much enchantment to be found there…you don't even have to go looking for it."

He paused for effect.

"It…will find _you_."

* * *

Not long after that, we left our house in Basilisk-Head forever and boarded the ship that would take us from the port in that city to Éindor. Nelisia pleaded seasickness and therefore was barely seen above deck for most of the duration of our journey, but Tizirra and I passed our time with Papa and kept a moderate level of sanity. Being cooped up in a small ship's cabin was a bad thing, especially if it involved two young girls who would have much rather been out and about.

Finally, the first glimpses of the island country that we had been told so much about came into view. Papa pointed to the dark, inky line that was the shore where we would disembark from our voyage onto, and told us, "There it is, loves. Your new realm of wonder and enchantment – the Island itself."

I leaned far over the ship's ledge, peering through the gray early morning mists. In the distance, I saw mountains: tall, looming, and imperious mountains, which stared benignly down at us, mere mortals, as if we were almost too small and insignificant to be noticed. 

The air here was different, I realized. 

In Basilisk-Head, and in the other countries that I had visited, the air had been steady and regular: tamed by the presence of thousands of human souls over the many long centuries. But here…here it was different. I couldn't exactly put a finger on how it was different, but I knew that it was. There was some greater aliveness of the air: some sparkling, fresh, tingling aliveness, like the night sky was just after a bolt of lightning had struck into it and then vanished. Something _magical_.

_Éindor is going to be quite an adventure,_ I thought.

I had no idea.

* * * * * *

_When they came to their country house, the merchant…applied…to husbandry and tillage; and Beauty rose at four in the morning, and made haste to have the house clean, and dinner ready for the family. In the beginning she found it very difficult, for she had not been used to work as a servant, but in less than two months she grew stronger and healthier than ever. After she had done her work, she read, played on the harpsichord, or else sung whilst she spun. The family had lived…in this retirement, when the merchant received a letter…_


	2. To Begin With

All Stories Begin Somewhere…

Introduction

Also Known As An Extremely-Long-Author's-Note

Greetings, all you seekers of the fairy tales that are to be found on ff.net! I, as you can see, am Kates, and this is my fourth story to be posted here: my very own retelling of Beauty and the Beast, which is (to me) one of the most beautiful stories to grace the world. 

In it, you will find not only many bits and pieces of other celebrated fairy tales and legends, but also the world, creatures, people, and places that I have created. Since these are all featured rather predominantly in the tale, I found it necessary to explain a little about them first.

However, before this is done, I must give a disclaimer. I do not own Beauty and the Beast or any of the fairy tales mentioned, alluded to, or featured in this story. Arielle, Orlando, and the other names/characters, etc., belong to me, but I do not own the fairy tales themselves. I only own f_aery_ tales. Now, on with the introduction.

Peoples and Creatures, etc. of Evyrworld

Section 1 – Sentients 

Mortals (humans), Faeries, Elves, Vampyres, Giants, and Dwarves

Mortals:

Normal, everyday, average humans. These can live up to be about 200 years of age, but are susceptible to death and can learn magic, although they are not born with such powers.

Faeries:

Beings with the appearance of mortals, only all of these are extremely fair to look upon. They can live to be upwards 700 years of age, but can also become immortal if they earn it by way of brave, selfless, good, etc., deeds. They dwell in either the Known World with the mortals or in the Lands Beyond, the home of the elves, or in the White Realm, their land which hovers like another level of reality on the fringes of the mortal world. All faeries are born with magical abilities.

Giants: 

Beings which look like mortals but can grow to be upwards of seven feet in height. They are not immortal, but upon "death", their bodies change into a different form, usually an animal of some sort. They are somewhat scarce.

The other races included in the Sentients category are not included in this list because they are not featured in this story (however, they will be in others like this one that I plan to write…)

Section 2 – Smaller Folk 

Sprytes, Gnomes, and Brownies

Sprytes:

Glowing orbs of light that float about and shape-shift at will.

As before, the other two races in this list are not included here because they are not featured in this story. 

Section 3 – Malevolents 

Skullex, Weyre wolves, Stalkers, Ogres, Wraiths, Sorcerers, wizards, sorceresses, witches, Pirates, and Carnas

Sorcerers, wizards, sorceresses, witches:

Can be really any of the Sentients turned evil. These belong to the Dark Realm, the White Realm's chief foe. Most wizards are good, but there _are_ those who have turned rogue. Sorcerers and sorceresses are the evil opposite of enchanters and enchantresses.

There is only one wizard featured in this particular tale, and none of the others.

Section 4 – Different Realms 

The Dark Realm, The White Realm, The Known World, and The Lands Beyond 

The Dark Realm: The world of evil that lies just beyond the mortal world. Can only be accessed by Dark Gates.

The White Realm:

The world of the faeries, which likewise hovers just beyond the mortal world. Ruled (currently) by Lord Orandor and Lady Vahlada. Can be reached by magic or by magic walls.

The Known World:

Located on the eastern side of Evyrworld. Mortals and virtually every other race (except for elves and a few other races, perhaps) live here.

The Lands Beyond:

Located on the western side of Evyrworld. Elves and the Pegasus, a race of the Legendaries (mythical creatures such as unicorns, griffins, etc.) are the original inhabitants here, although other races have come to live within it as well.

Section 5 – Powers 

The Three and The Severs Powers of the World

The Three:

In the space of all eternity, before the creation of Evyrworld, there was the Three. They created the world and everything in it. They are the trinity of creators.

The Seven Powers of the World:

Under the Three, seven spirits were given charge of Evyrworld, commanded to live within its sphere and control its different aspects such as air, water, land, fire, animals, Sentients, Legendaries, and life/death. They are joined in this by their wives, since all seven of the Powers are male.

I trust that this almost deplorably lengthy (and most likely incredibly tedious) exposition of Evyrworld will give you some insight into the story that is to be told here. It may be helpful to you, in order to completely understand everything within this, if you read my other story, the first in the series which I have begun: the Travelers of Enchantment. It can be found in the original fics category, under fantasy. _Wings of the Heart_ is its name.

But as for now, I think we can safely proceed… 


	3. Beast

Author's note:  Second chapter, in which we are introduced to the other protagonist of this story.  To those of you who may be wondering – yes, the fairy tales featured in this story are quite warped and oddly put-together in a very many different ways, but some of their aspects have remained true to the originals.  Beauty's new stepmother and stepsister's unkindness to her have not been featured because I wanted to keep with the traditional "stepfamily-bad, heroine-good" theme, but because it tied the Cinderella story into the others.  There will be things that you will find the same, and some will be different.  Trust me – it's all part of the plan.   ^_^

Oh, and this is also a bit of a long chapter – I tend to do that a lot with my stories, so please bear with me and my faults…

Disclaimer:  As usual, I do not own Beauty and the Beast or any of the other fairy tales featured in this story.  I merely write of them for other people's enjoyment (hopefully…)  

Beast:

Past Understanding

_A frightful Beast…_

My story begins three hundred years ago.  

Once, then, I had had a family, a world that I knew and loved, a home, a purpose in life, and all of the happiness that could be imagined.  

I was the second oldest child in my family and my parents were members of the White Realm, also known as the world of faeries, which hovered on the fringes of the mortal world of men.  Faeries are powerful, incredible beings that look exactly like humans – mortals – except that they are all incredibly fair and hardly age, and are gifted with two things.  First, they have an ability to create and wield any kind of magic or enchantment that they wish, and second, they have the chance to become _immortal_.  

Actually, to tell the strict truth, I was only _half_-faery.  

My mother, the younger sister of Vahlada: the lady of the White Realm, was faery: a member of the exalted, perilously fair race.  My father, however, was a mortal: only allowed into the world of faeries because of my aunt's unswerving love and devotion for my mother.  In spite of this obvious privilege, however, he was barely present in our family, being forever off somewhere on one of his 'once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity' fortune-hunting chases.  

But that mattered little to me.  _I_ enjoyed my life.  

I had an older brother with whom I got along very well, a kind and caring mother who understood everything about me, two younger twin sisters who were never irritating, and a fantastic rank in the court of the White Realm.  I was a powerful enchanter, my immortality was something I had almost earned, and one day, when my mother became queen of her father's mortal world kingdom, my brother and I would be princes, and my sisters would be princesses.  And I would no longer have to worry about what kind of chicanery my father was getting into because I would have better things to do.  My life was simply, and without a doubt, _perfect_.

Perfection, I have found since then, is something that remains in one's life only so long as one is unaware of it.  

I was twenty-three, barely so, when I discovered that my father had struck a bargain, with some black-market sorcerer from the mortal world, to steal the legendary Book of Hours from the faery stronghold of Avalennon.  The Book of Hours was a gigantic manuscript that held within its pages the stories of each hour of the day.  It could be used to manipulate the natural course of day, making night into mid-afternoon or worse.  Only the highest-ranking members of the court were allowed to use it or even touch it, so greatly was it held in reverence.

And my father had stolen it.

Of course, the royal guard had been called out upon someone's sighting of the thief, and they had chased my father to our home, and they were banging on our door almost before I had had time to realize what he had done.  My father bolted.  Throwing his cloak at me so that it landed squarely on my head and then tossing the book into my arms, he ran from the room and disappeared.  The royal guard burst into the room and saw me there – looking like an apparent thief.  

Then things went from bad to worse.  The official who had been sent to capture the thief was a wizard who had been in the mortal world for many years and he had never seen my father before.  All he knew was that the figure that had stolen the Book of Hours had worn a dark blue cloak, and – obviously – had the volume with him.  He was also very eager to punish the evildoer who had taken one of the White Realm's most guarded possessions.  He wouldn't even listen to me when I tried to tell him that I hadn't taken the book.  But why would he have listened to me?  Don't _all_ miscreants generally try to plead their way out of justice?     

So the wizard – Saruptal – put a curse on me.

I left the White Realm, my beloved family, and the life that I had known, and fled to the mortal world.  The curse changed me and I was terrified, uncertain, and alone, and I couldn't bear to let them see me.  I couldn't bear to see _myself_.

And so I became a beast.

_The Beast. _

*                       *                       *

In the three centuries that I had been this way, I had learned to keep myself from any being's sight.  Éindor was the country where the White Realm's capital, Avalennon, had its boundaries, and, whereas I wanted to be as far away from the condemning presence of my past, I couldn't bring myself to leave it entirely.  With the aid of my enchanter's powers, I created a fortress in which I could hide away from everything and anything.  I shunned anything that would show me what I now was, anything that would drive me mad with the reality of my curse…however, there was _one_ place in the castle where a legion of mirrors lurked, simply waiting for me to stumble upon them, like a hidden torture chamber.  Beyond that, the castle that I made still reflected the love, the passion, which I still had for beauty, and I could not escape it.  

I maintained the services of the creatures that I had used in the White Realm as my most loyal servants – and they really were extremely loyal, for every one of them owed me its life in some way or another – to both assist me in ways that I knew little or nothing of, being slightly inexperienced at living in the mortal world.  They were the Sprytes, and despite the comical sound of their name, no being could be further from that.  Wise as a unicorn, sly as a fox, and witty as a thousand well-trained scholars, they were quite the most able servants that I could have wished for.  They tended to the vast gardens that surrounded my castle, kept things clean and beautiful within its rooms, did my bidding, and made certain that the castle was lit and fires were kept going whenever they were needed.  As to what they look like…it's somewhat hard to explain.  Sometimes they resemble flecks of light, like miniature stars, and can dart about with the most amazing speed.  More often than not, however, they change shape whenever the whim comes upon them – and far be it from anyone to even attempt to predict what their next form will be.  I never tried.  

What happened to me is almost obvious without need of words.  

I felt as if I had been imprisoned in a shell, my hideous monster's form, although I kept my mind, my emotions, and every part of my former self except for my exterior.  Now I could see in the dark, although my normal eyesight in broad daylight was a bit blurry, I could smell a thousand times more acutely than ever before, I could move about with near silence when I wished, could run for hours without becoming tired, and I could hear things that I previously had had no sense for.  However, there were also some things that I wished I had never been subjected to – things that beasts did because it was their nature and they could not help themselves.  

The curse's hold on me was impossible to free myself from.  I chased creatures through the forests in the lands surrounding my castle, deep in the night as the moon shone above on the treetops and the owls cried their mournful, haunting song.  I both intensely desired and hated the feeling of having killed my prey and drenched myself in dew and blood.  I was faery, and I was beast.  Even if I _had_ spent the past three hundred years trying to teach myself how to behave like a man again and, more importantly, trying to find a way to break the curse, I was still a beast.

It was past understanding.

If it hadn't been for the Sprytes, with their odd companionship and even odder ways, and the roses, I might have lost my mind entirely.  The roses.  I had made roses – countless numbers of roses, in every shape, size, and hue – grow everywhere about in the castle gardens.  Of course, there were thousands of other flowers, herbs, plants, trees, and bushes there, but it was the roses that I loved the most.  They, above everything else, reminded me of the love, happiness, and peace of my former life.  I was nearly obsessed with them, for I could not bring myself to care about anything else as deeply.

It would prove to be part of my destiny.

*                       *                       *

_A palace…_

I saw the merchant long before he ever saw me, and I smelled the scent of a human on the air far before he had ever appeared.  

After three hundred years of perpetual silence and secrecy, it puzzled me that someone: a _mortal_, no less, should come upon my clandestine sanctuary. However, when I saw the man, I saw what had driven him so far away from the normal human settlements, causing him to become so lost that he had stumbled upon my castle.  A blizzard had covered the land with a seemingly vengeful fury.  

I watched from behind the shadowy windows as the man and his exhausted mount found the castle gates.  A faint glow that ebbed into being at the direct vicinity of my elbow warned me that a Spryte, in the form of a tiny little winged human-shaped being, had materialized there.  

"It looks cold outside." it remarked, and I could be only too certain of what it was implying.  "Certainly." I retorted, snapping irritably at it. "It's the middle of the winter.  Don't tell me _you_ haven't become familiar with the climate of this blasted country in the three centuries that we've been here.  _I_ certainly have!"

I was about to turn my back and walk dismissively away, but the Spryte's next words halted me in my tracks.

"You _could_ help him."

Well, that was true, and I knew it.  Gritting my teeth together and clenching my paws into tight fists, I returned to my post at the window and glared at the glowing creature for a moment as it waited on me, complacently.  

"Fine." I told it, not bothering to hide my irritation.  Why was it that the Sprytes would go all save-the-world and humanitarian on me at the most inopportune times?  I had been alone for three hundred years and _now_…  

"Fine.  Let him in, give him food and a place to sleep and whatever else you see fit and let him spend the night in…" 

I trailed off, uncertain of where to put a guest after my long time alone. 

"In one of the rooms here.  And then, tomorrow morning, I want him gone.  No questions, no answers, and _especially_ no showing yourselves!  It's the last thing I need to have someone raising a ruckus about a horrible monster that lives in the woods just waiting to pounce on the first unsuspecting traveler that happens by." 

I glanced at the Spryte, expecting to see that it had already gone. 

"Are you still here?  _Go_!"

It did, and I was left alone again.  I watched, then, as the gates slowly swung open and the man came inside.  I could only imagine what he was thinking, but I really didn't care.  He would stay the night and go on his way the next morning, having witnessed no appearance of the castle's inhabitants, and perhaps the story of a magical castle would circulate about in whatever town or city that he had come from for a while, and then we would be left to peace again.  

He led his horse into the stables, and a little more than a half an hour later, I heard the great front doors open and knew that he had entered.  I went to my own quarters, confident that the Sprytes would do their work without my aid.  

But what would this man think of my castle and all of its wonders, and its lack of living inhabitants?  He would never really know about what really went on here, and I would never know what things had passed through his mind as he crossed over my thresh hold.  But did I care?  Or could I possibly _not care_?  

Suddenly, an overwhelming sadness and longing for my family swept over me and tore viciously at my soul, and I fled into the cold, snowy night.

*                       *                       *

The next morning, I found that my visitor had awakened and was looking about the castle, presumably searching for either its master or its mistress.  Keeping myself well hidden, I followed him outside and into the castle gardens, staying close behind him as he made his way towards the gates.

His horse made me nervous.  It could smell me, although its owner could not, and it was behaving very skittishly, rolling its eyes so that their whites showed as it chomped on its bit, flecks of foam forming at the corners of its mouth while sweat appeared to glisten wetly at its sides.  It was waiting for its first chance to bolt.  

I growled, softly, deep in my throat, and forced myself to resist my carnivore's inclination to silence the stupid brute.  

The man had come to a place in one of the gardens paths where a great profusion of pure, snow-white roses grew, hundreds of them, in spite of the cold weather that winter had cast so quickly upon the earth.  He stopped.  I myself grow icy.

He broke off a rose.

A wild, ragged shriek of insurmountable rage, despair, and madness burst forth from me.  I tore out of the bushes in which I had been hiding myself, fangs bared and claws ready to rip into shreds whatever they came into contact with.  The horse screamed in terror and reared, then whirled around and was gone.  I hardly noticed, for my anger had overwhelmed me.  I couldn't contain myself.  I knew that he had meant no offense, but he had just taken one of my roses, my _most precious possessions_.  He fell to the ground, cowering, arms flung about his head.

"_YOU_!" was all I could manage to say coherently.

He wouldn't even look at me.  I tried to steady my breath.

"I saved…your life…" I finally rasped. "I let you into my castle and kept you from death…and you repay me…" I tried to take another calming breath, but my anger took over my mind again and I screamed, "With _this_!"

He had no idea what he had just done.

"My roses are what I _love best_ in the world!"

I turned around, refusing to let him – to let this man, this _mortal_ – see that another of my emotions had surfaced: grief.

"And you steal them.  For this," I whirled around and stabbed a finger, or rather a claw, at him.  He had been staring, aghast, at the back of my head when I had been facing away from him, and then he raised his hands to cover his face again when he saw mine.  I felt like shoving those hands away and forcing him to look into my eyes.

"For this," I repeated, trembling with rage, "You shall _die_!"

At last, he was looking at me.

"Please!" he said, and I saw the blatant, boundless terror in his eyes.  

I knew such terror.

"Please, milord—"

I cut him off, even angrier.

"Do _not_ call me a lord – you see what I am!"

"Please, I only did it for her!  She asked me to bring her a single white rose.  I thought I would have things to bring back to them, but I have failed.  When I saw these roses, I believed that I could at _least_ give my beauty what she truly wanted.  Please, they are all I have.  I beg of you, merely let me say good-bye to them."

My mind was whirling.

She.

He had said _she_.

But who was she?  His wife?  His daughter?  Someone else entirely?  A woman who loved roses…

I let the breath expel from my lungs, and it made a low hissing sound as it left my chest, and then I narrowed my eyes.  

"Explain."

So he told me, never once meeting my eyes, of his loss of fortune – he had been a merchant in the country of Casilimoor – and of his family's forced removal to Éindor, of his second wife and stepdaughter.  And his daughter.  I asked her name.

Arielle Honorine Bellissima Rose.

_Rose…Arielle…she…daughter…Beauty._

I then had a mad, mad idea and spoke it, almost without thinking.

_The wizard had told me… "There is hardly any way to break this spell that I've put on you, but I'm feeling generous tonight.  Therefore, I shall tell you this, and only this – you can't tell anyone of whom you truly are, or instant doom will be your reward, and there must be two people working against this spell in order to shatter its bonds upon you and transform you back to your former self.  One of those people is you…and the other…well, there's only one person in the world that can be that other person, and you must find him – or her.  But I don't think you'll be wanting to be out in the wide world searching for your rescuer anytime soon now, will you…" Derisive laughter._

I cleared that memory from my head.

"You say, merchant," I began, speaking slowly and clearly, making certain that he heard each and every one of the words that I had for him, "that you are all that your family has left.  Go home to them then."

I saw hope begin to glimmer faintly in his eyes and cut it off relentlessly.

"But in three weeks, you will send your daughter, this Beauty: the one who asked for a rose, to this castle, where she will remain for the rest of her days – with _me_." 

I savored the taste of those words on my lips.  She.  With me.  The rest of her days.  Only with me.  Rose.  This Beauty.

"She must come or _you_ will return and receive your punishment."

I was being cruel and I enjoyed it.

The merchant's eyes widened and his skin paled – I was blind to all colours, like most other animals, but I could see that he had changed in hue – and I could smell his fear, his grief.  His panic.

"No, please!" he cried, pleading with me.  Animal inclinations rose again and I clenched my teeth, checking myself. "Do not ask this of me – I cannot sacrifice my daughter to pay for my own sin!  Kill me _now_ if you must!"

I shook my head.  This was not something that I was going to give up.  

"No." I snarled. "Return home and tell her of this.  Tell her and in three weeks, either you or she must come here.  _Go_!"

With that, I flung an arm out towards the gates, which swung open with the speed of lightning at my gesture and waited, quivering from the echoes that the sound of my last word, roared as only a Beast could, had thrown into the air.  The merchant got to his feet, shaking, and backed away, staring at the ground and refusing to look at me.

"Return or suffer." I told him. "_GET OUT_!"

And he did.

*                       *                       *

_Beauty's room…_

I had made the merchant swear to bring either himself or his daughter…which meant that I had much work to have done before the three weeks had passed and they came.  _If_ they came.

One of the worse parts about my curse was that, on that terrible night three centuries ago, I had been frozen in time.  Instead of merely being able to age and then expire – for I had not yet gained my faery immortality, as I have already stated – I had not aged a single moment, and death could only come to me by my own hand.  The problem that this caused was that I had missed the changes of the world during those three hundred years and I now had no idea of how to provide a suitable living place for…her.

And that was another problem – _her_.

I hadn't asked her age.  Horrors.  What if she was a child and would cry for her family and lose herself within the castle's hundred rooms and halls?  I could help with the latter of those two, and so could the Sprytes, but the first…  

What if she was a young woman who was in love – or betrothed?  

The thought of that made me feel deeply sick.  

Either way, she would most likely hate me for what I had subjected her to, and her companionship would be a bitter one.  I knew that she would be frightened of me.  _I_ was frightened of _myself_.  But she was coming and I had to ready her place.  She would be the castle's mistress and I would now have her completely to myself, as a payment for her father's treachery, forever.  

I went to one of my rooms and began a special task of magic working.  One of the windows in my rooms was a very special window, quite unlike any other in the entire castle.  When given the proper command, it would show any picture of anything that I wished to see.  It glimmered at me, half-invitingly, half-hesitantly, and I stared at it for a moment.  Then, I said a few words in faery and the window's many coloured stained glass panes seemed to melt and fuse together with a burst of light.  

When it cleared, I saw a picture of a room – hers.  Quite obviously, from what I could tell by looking at it, she was a young maiden: a few years below twenty, I decided.  I gave another command and saw a picture of a royal court.  I felt a sense of mild surprise.  So much had changed in the world, and yet so much _hadn't_.  

This wouldn't be…_terribly_ bad.

Satisfied, I went to work.

Three weeks.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

_"The Beast's power is so great…"_

Author's note:  Well, there you have it.  I must ask the forgiveness of those of you who like the sweet, soft-spoken Beasts; as you can tell, this guy is not quite a very nice person (yet), but you can't really blame him for being somewhat…erm…hostile to life in general.  He'll have a character improvement later on, and you'll see that he's really not all that bad.  Just for now, let's see him being a bit of a brat.  Please r&r! 


	4. Beauty

Author's note:  Second chapter – again, it's a long one, but I think length is somewhat an unavoidable necessity in my writings…check out any of my other stories on ff.net and you'll see what I mean.  Anyways, on that note, let us begin…

Disclaimer:  Somebody once remarked in a disclaimer that fairy tales were free-domain, and you know what?  I think it's at least fairly true!  So there.  Okay, fine, I didn't really write Beauty and the Beast or any of the other fairy tales because I'm not quite that old, but the whole idea behind this story belongs to me, as does the world and countries it takes place in, and most of the characters.  To commence!

Beauty:

A World of Uncertainties

_"Indeed Father," said Beauty, "you shall not go to the palace without me…"_

In the winter months directly following the one in which I had my seventeenth birthday, Papa received news that some of his long-lost ships had reappeared, safe and mostly unharmed.  So he left me with the Baroness and Tizirra and traveled to the city in hopes of reclaiming our recovered wealth.

As usual, Nelisia instantly reverted from her sickeningly sweet, adoring mother's attitude to the dame tyrant's air that she usually wore towards me in Papa's absence.  Since we had no servants now, she had said to me upon Papa's first journey away from home shortly after we had come to live in Éindor, someone would have to do the work less suited for well-bred ladies of lofty station.  

And that someone was neither she nor Tizirra.

I did whatever she told me, which had mainly to do with keeping the house in order, preparing the meals, and working the vegetable, herb, and flower garden that we sold to produce from to make a small living, and that sort of thing, and life was fairly agreeable – given that I was _away_ from my stepmother and stepsister, who very much disliked me, hardly concealing that fact even in front of Papa.

As I have said, however, my father went off to see to his ships in the winter of my seventeenth birthday.  Before he had left, he had asked us what we all wanted so that he could bring presents back to us, paid for with our restored wealth.  It was a terribly optimistic thought.  Nelisia and Tizirra requested – more like clamorously demanded! – all sorts of finery: silk and velvet gowns, ropes and ropes of pearls, diamonds and rubies for their hair, gold and silver bracelets and earrings, furs, and dainty new shoes.  

I was so disgusted by them that when he asked me for what I wanted, it took me a moment to drag my mind to a reply.

Well, he wouldn't be able to bring back the sorts of riches that they were asking for; when we had been well off, we had never possessed such money.  I thought, then, of what he _could_ bring.  And so it occurred to me that there _was_ something that I desperately desired…something that he could indeed give to me.

I asked him for a rose – a white rose.

When he had gone, the drudgery and the unkindness began again.  I woke each morning before sunrise to begin my work; Nelisia and Tizirra slept peacefully in their chambers until a few hours before midday.  And that was how things went.

One cold, snowy day, as I was drawing a pail of icy water from our well, Tizirra came up behind me.  My stepsister moved like a cat, and her eyes were like those of a cat: cool, watchful, aloof, and faintly mocking, and her clothing whispered against her slender, lithesome figure as she approached me.  

I pretended that I hadn't noticed her as she stood and gazed at my profile for a long moment.  Then, she spoke.  "Did you _really_ want a rose now, or were you just trying to look better in his eyes?" She never referred to Papa as her father – at least when he wasn't around.  I gritted my teeth in irritation. "I mean, honestly, sister dear," she went on, condescendingly, "who would even _think_ of bringing back such a frivolous thing as a rose after a hard and long journey?  Surely _he_ wouldn't."

I wanted to slap her so hard that it would make her head spin, but I restrained myself, continuing to mostly ignore her.  

Tizirra's eyes gleamed, coldly and viciously.  "What do you dream about, Arielle: little Mistress Beauty?" she asked, her voice low and sing-song. "Is your head as empty as your eyes?" She was taunting me.

I set the bucket down on the stone rim of the well and rested one elbow carefully on its lip, turning at last to face her with my head cocked and my own face becoming slightly sardonic and cool.

"Really, Tizirra…I couldn't say."

I turned back to the bucket and lifted it off of the well's rim, preparing to go, but she stopped me.  I steeled myself for what was coming.  Tizirra's slate blue eyes narrowed and she inhaled sharply, making a sound not too unlike the hiss of a cat.  She reached out and grabbed a section of my hair that had slipped over my shoulder and yanked – hard.  I winced at the pain but otherwise did not react.  Tizirra released my hair and whirled around on one heel.

"Sallow-faced, dull-witted, half-blood minx!" she spat at me. "You should be taken by the powers you believe haunt this place – _you don't belong here_!"

She left me then, and that night, Papa returned.

_Her virtue and amiable qualities made them envious and jealous…_

*                       *                       *

I finished drying off the dishes from dinner and banked the fire in the kitchen, then went into the large, open front room of our house to join Nelisia and Tizirra.  My stepsister – who was curled up in an armchair reading, or pretending to read, a book of poems and sonnets – shot me a burning glare.  I averted my gaze, pointedly disregarding her, and sat down at the hearth in front of the fire.  

Nelisia shivered suddenly and set her embroidery work down in her lap, saying as she did so, "It's _so_ rather cold tonight, isn't it?  Arielle, go bring in some more wood for the fire.  No one _asked_ you to join us."

I stood and crossed the room and retrieved my heavy winter shawl from the rack on the wall in the house's foyer.  

"Oh, and by the way…" I heard Tizirra call after me, her voice cold as breaking ice and unmistakably derisive, "Don't stray into the woods, sister dear – goodness knows _what_ creatures may lurk within its shadows just waiting to carry you off and put you under some spell!"

It was becoming hard to hear her comments and taunts and resist the urge to snap back, but somehow I made it to the door without reply.  

The wind was howling around the corners of the house, pelting it with ice and snow.  Its sound was like the heart-broken, despairing cry of a lonely wild animal.  I shuddered to think of Papa out in such a storm.  Just as I put my hand on the knob, the door suddenly flew open and a blast of icy wind and biting flecks of snow swirled in.  Dimly, I heard Nelisia saying, her voice seemingly muted and distant, "What has that dullard done now?  If I have to—"

But all I could focus my mind on was one thing – the ragged and mostly frozen figure that stood in the doorway before me, clutching something in its wind-burnt and reddened hands as if it was a delicate, tiny newborn infant.  For a moment that seemed to stretch on for forever and a day, I was too frozen to move.

Then, I remembered myself and started forward, crying out, "_Papa_!"

Nelisia reached him a fraction of a second after I had and, arms flung about him, we pulled him inside.  He was so stiff and so cold that I wondered if he had been turned to ice.  Nelisia tried commanding me to close the door and then tend to Papa's mount, but I fiercely held my ground and would not leave his side.  Together, we got him into the fire lit room beyond.

Tizirra returned from guiding Papa's horse into our tiny stable and closed the front door behind herself, then retrieved a glass of brandy – one of the last vestiges of our life before Papa's desolation – and gave it to him.  Nelisia and I had managed to maneuver him into the armchair that she had vacated and now we hovered about him like light-seeking moths.  My throat was drawn tight, aching and burning and stretched, and I rubbed his cold hand between my own, trying vainly to bring some life back into him.  His eyes had a peculiar, glassy shine to them that frightened me even more than his seeming paralysis.  What had happened?

"Papa, please!" I begged him, tearfully. "Please, speak to us – please come back, be all right!"

After a silent moment in which all of my fears – past and present – combined themselves into one, he ceased to be a motionless statue and breathed.  His head turned to me.  "Papa, what happened?" I breathed.  Tears burned in my eyes.  He brought something forth from his coat, which was, I suddenly noticed, no longer old and ragged, but fine and new: made of the softest doeskin that I had ever felt and trimmed with deep, luxurious fur, and held it out to me with a trembling hand.

It was a rose: the most perfect, amazing rose that I had ever seen.  

Its bloom was gigantic, almost bigger than one and a half of my fists, and its glory, white as new fallen snow and velvety as a queen's bridal gown, seemed to transform the dark, worn room in which we stood into a paradise of brilliant, shimmering clouds.  Its fragrance was overwhelming and completely intoxicating.  

_What kind of dream is this?_

I stared at my rose – _my_ rose – and felt as if it was looking back at me and nodding its head in grave, wise assent, saying, Yes.  Yes, this is correct.  She is the one.  Yes, yes, _yes_.  Papa then spoke.

"Here is your rose, my Beauty…and dearly have I paid for it."

He then told us a story of which I could barely contain my amazement – a story of a light in the wood, a fantastic castle that was so enormous and so beautiful that it was like an entire city in and of itself, and the terrible promise that he had made because of the rose.  And he told us of a beast.

The Beast.

I felt an odd, somehow calm sense settle into my mind: a sense that I could not exactly describe, even to myself.  

It was as if…as if I had _known_…

Suddenly, there was a dreadful stinging sensation in my fingertips and I saw a blur of movement, both of which jerked me back to reality.  Nelisia had ripped the rose out of my fingers, dragging its thorns against my skin, and she stood, furious and almost frenzied, before us.  I gazed at her in shock and fear.

"This is all _her_ fault!" she cried, half screaming and half sobbing.  She stabbed an accusing finger at me and I recoiled against my father's arm. "This is all your fault, do you hear?  You selfish, selfish, mean little brat!"

She rushed at me and hit me with the rose again and again with each syllable of those words.  Papa flung an arm out in front of me and held up his other hand, stopping her.  "Someone," he said, quietly and firmly, eyeing her carefully, as if she was a tigress whom he thought had a mind to spring, "Must go."

She stared at him, face white beneath her powder and rouge, eyes throwing sparks.  "Then it should be her.  The stupid little chit could only think of her own interests and now we are all doomed!"

"No." said Papa, in the same calm, even tone.  It was as if he was somehow resigned…to something.  "No.  Beauty will not go, and neither will Tizirra."

_…In three weeks, you will send your daughter…_

"_I_ will go."

I turned on him, trembling.

"No, Papa!" I said, my mouth going dry, as my heart seemed to leap into my throat. "No, you cannot go!  You mustn't!"

His eyes, so much different in their dark brown from my own of azure blue, were compassionate and sad as he looked at me.

"I swore to the Beast."

He gazed around the room, at the bookshelf lined walls and simple furniture.

"We must comply or suffer."

"Let _me_ go."

I was startled by my own words, by my voice.  It was if as it had come from another person's throat.  Even Nelisia and Tizirra looked taken aback by what I had just said.  The expression on Papa's face was one of pain.  

I rushed on, heedlessly.  

"You promised him a _daughter_.  You can spare me – I don't do much, but Madam and sister need _you_.  I…am not…afraid.  Let me go.  It is the only way." 

Papa shook his head and I forced myself to be calm, steady, and almost emotionless.  Merely thinking about what might very well happen to me if I went to the Beast was frightening enough.  

But if I truly wanted to save my father and fulfill the vow made to the creature, I could not let anyone see what I was truly thinking of…

"Yes," sniffed Nelisia, sullenly. "Make her go.  It's her fault – it _is_, my love."

Papa stood, looking as if his back had hurt him, and when I tried to help him, he waved me brusquely off.  He then turned to face us and once more eyed us all one by one, his eyes hard and bitter.

"None of you know what this creature – this monster, this _Beast_ – is.  You _haven't seen him_." He punctuated each word firmly, driving it into the silent, uncomfortable air.  I felt as if a storm cloud was hovering above our heads.  Papa continued. "Beauty, you say that you will go – but you don't know what you are promising.  Nelisia, Tizirra, you don't know what you would be sending her into.  I have seen this…_monster_," he said the word with marked disgust, "And I have spoken with him – _it_.  There's no horror like him…he's a creature that only nightmares can beget.  _You don't know_.  _I_ am going."

And he turned and slowly went upstairs.  

I felt both Nelisia and Tizirra's eyes on me then, and knew that they were waiting to see what I would do – waiting to see if I would fly into a passion and kick and scream, or begin bawling like a frightened calf.  I kept my gaze anchored on the floorboards at my feet and they left, following Papa out of the room.

Only after I had heard the last door click shut on its latches did I move.  

I felt as if I was in a dream, in a world where only this room and I and the wonderful, pure white rose existed.  Slowly, I walked over to it.  Nelisia had dropped it quite near to the wide-open fireplace: so close that the very smallest flames from the embers there had managed to touch it.  Gingerly, I pulled it out by the stem, deeply grieved that such a beautiful thing had been destroyed.  

I almost forgot everything else – my life in Éindor, Papa, my stepfamily, even the Beast and the horrible vow then…__

_For the rose was still perfect_.

I held it up, gently placing my fingertips along its firm, slender, dark green stem, gazing at it.  It felt as if it had just been plucked from a bush in a garden that spring had only recently stirred to life.

It felt as if it was…__

_Magical._

The Beast had asked for a daughter – for Beauty.  It was either her or Papa that he expected, and such an entity as this could not easily be thwarted, I felt.  After all, he _was_ a beast, and beasts…

I had to go.

Something – something more than filial devotion for my beloved father – was compelling me to go, and I could not put it out of my head.

Papa wouldn't stop me.  Nothing would.

I had three weeks to remain in my world, and then I would go to the Beast.  I assumed that, if he was powerful enough to govern an entire castle with invisible workings, he would most certainly be able to provide me with a way to come to him…although what he planned to do with me, once I had arrived, I was in no way assured.  Why were maidens always asked for?  I didn't want to think about a few of the reasons why – the most pressing among those being that he had an appetite for tender young girls' flesh.  That was the wrong type of legend to refer to, I supposed.

What was he like?

My father hadn't described him in exact terms.  He had said that the Beast was a hideous creature that looked as if he had been composed in the darkest regions of the underworlds themselves, and that he spoke and dressed like a man.  "All black…" Papa had said.  But any more than that he had not described.

I was facing a world of uncertainties and I did not know how to cope with them.  I had no answers…I didn't even have any _details_.  But perhaps that was for the best.  It most definitely gave me a whole lot less to dread.  

So go I would and did.

On the final morning of the third week, I woke at the crack of dawn and dressed myself, then crept downstairs and outside, hoping that I wouldn't wake anyone.  I took the rose – which had not wilted in the entire duration of those three weeks as it had maintained a calm, silent vigil over my room from its place atop my beside table – with me and stepped into the cold, clear morning light.

In the courtyard of our tiny little farm stood a magnificent, pure white steed with a silver and white bridle and saddle, both studded with diamonds that sparkled brilliantly in the sun.  I stared at it for a moment, and then took one last glance at the house.

My heart would ache for my father – this I predicted, even if I had always told myself that one day I would be forced to leave for love, a marriage, a family.  A husband.  There wasn't any chance of _that_ happening now, however.  My life in this world was over, for better or for worse.  In the time between this moment and…the fulfillment of whatever my destiny was, I would miss my father.  And I would be unhappy at the thought that I had never been able to reconcile myself with Nelisia and Tizirra, proving to them that I _had _wanted to love them, to be part of a family with them.

But now none of that really mattered.  I was facing a drastic turn of events in my life, and there was no going back from this moment.  My entire being was twisted with a myriad of emotions – uncertainty, fright, sadness, anger.

Excitement.

_How…?_

I had to go.

"Good-bye, Papa." I whispered. "Please…_try_ to understand."

I went to the horse and climbed into the saddle.  After I had settled myself, it tossed its mane, as if it was eager to be off and had grown restless in waiting, and then we were cantering out onto the road and into the thick forest beyond.

And of course, I didn't look back.

My destiny, whatever it was, loomed up before me and I found myself able to think of only one thing.

The Beast.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

_The horse took the direct road to the palace…_

Author's note:  And what will these two totally different people think when they finally meet – are we to see sparks or love at first sight?  (It's fairly easy to tell, if you're at all acquainted with his character by now…)  Next chapter will arrive soon, but I would appreciate the reviews of all those who read – it might tempt me to post more, if I find people like it enough…  And yes I _am_ totally without scruple when it comes to bribery, manipulation, and my stories.   ^_^  


	5. Beast

Author's note:  Nothing much to say right now, except that I need some reviews.  Please?  Thanks to Lexi, Lis, and CapturedHeart though – you guys are the best!

Disclaimer:  Or would it be claimer?  I don't know.  Fairy tales are free-domain (maybe…), but the world where this takes place is mine, as are most of the characters.  Enjoy!

Beast:

Two Souls, One Vow

Welcome Beauty, banish fear;  
you are queen and mistress here.  
Speak your wishes, speak your will,  
Swift obedience meets them still.

On the afternoon of the final day of the three weeks that I had ordered the merchant to make his decision in, I stood at a window in a wing of my castle that faced the great front gates.  The Sprytes had kept themselves out of my way most of the day, since I hadn't expressed any desire to have their company or their service, and I knew that it was because I was clearly not in the mood to have anyone speaking to me.  It was growing late and the sun was beginning to ever so slowly creep towards the far away horizon, and yet neither the man nor his daughter had arrived.

What if he lied to me?

I flexed the long, wickedly sharp claws at the tips of all ten of my fingers and then curled them back into fists again, growling low in my throat without even meaning to.

Whowould?

A bit of wind stirred the top branches of the trees that grew beyond the sheltering wall and I listened – acutely, with my animal's senses – to the sound of it: to the sound of the tree limbs groaning with their movement, to the whisper of the branches against themselves, to the soft sighing of the wind.  The smell of the air was sharp and filled with the nuances of a forest, of pinesap and snow-blanketed earth, and cold, fresh air.  It filled me with an exhilaration that nothing could surpass.  I wanted to run, to be free, to gaze up at the never-ending globe of the clear sky above my head and feel the wind racing against me, to forget and never think of what I had become, what I was, again.

I muttered, under my breath, in the faery tongue, and then I glanced out to the wide, excellently kept lane that led up from the gates to the castle's gigantic, ironbound front doors.  My horse would find her; of that, I was completely confident.  I had transformed one of the Sprytes into a snow-white stallion and sent it on its way to find the merchant's dwelling, and even if another howling blizzard made an attempt to impede its progress, it would reach her.  

Her.

I wondered what I was to do with her, once she arrived.  It had been quite a considerable time since I had been in the company of another sentient being other than the Sprytes, much less a young maiden.  I had had my sisters, of course, and my royal cousins, the daughters of the Lord Orandor and Lady Vahlada, and therefore I had some idea of how members of the feminine race behaved.

But there was a gargantuan difference between how I had treated the ladies in my own family and ladies of the faery court and how I would treat a human girl.  

What nonsense am I blithering? I thought to myself, in disgust.  Who could give a care about how you treat her?  She certainly won't!  She'll hate you for what you've done, for the way that you've taken her from her family and her life, and she'll fear you for what you are – a monster.

Suddenly, the gates were opening, and a stallion, white as snow and spirited as a spring zephyr, pranced in through them, tossing his head and shaking his mane as if he had just taken part in a merry hunting party.

At last.

She was here.

Beauty had come.

*                       *                       *

"No," replied the Beast, "you alone are mistress here…"

Upon seeing that she had finally arrived, I had flung out an arm and snapped out a rapid string of words in faery, and, instantly, five eager Sprytes were hovering in the air around me, setting it aglow with their light.

"Attend her!" I ordered them. "Give her whatever she needs and do whatever you must for her.  Show her to her room.  Go!"

The five went whizzing off and I turned back to the window at which I was standing, leaning heavily on its stone ledge and hearing the scrape of my claws against its hard surface as I dug them into it.  I tried to calm my whirling mind, to maintain my composure, but it was extremely difficult.  I found myself struggling to steady my breath.

The Spryte that I had sent to retrieve Beauty was suddenly floating beside me.  

"She has come, Master," it informed me in its soft, breathy voice. "What is your bidding that I may carry out for you now?"

"They are attending her." I said, narrowing my eyes as I tried to organize my thoughts.  I had to start somewhere.  "Tell her…no, wait, I will." 

Hastily then, I conjured a sheet of paper out of the air and an ink-filled quill pen materialized beside it, forming the words that I composed in my head as I gazed at it, mentally writing down my message.  My hands were now so altered that I could never again hope to use them in writing or any other activity that required such dexterity.  My powers of magic and enchantment would have to suffice. 

"Take this to her," I gestured for the Spryte to retrieve the letter that I had just written, "and tell her whatever she wishes to know.  I will not have it hidden from her that this castle is run by magic, and that I am the source of that.  Tell her…" I bit my lower lip, hesitating, as I considered my next words. 

"Tell her that she needn't be afraid."

*                       *                       *

The sun was already mostly set by the time that I left my chambers in the wing that I had not vacated all that day and passed through countless numbers of rooms, corridors, and other chambers, seeking the place where I knew she would be awaiting me.  I hoped that my letter had been convincing in its apology for my not meeting her upon her arrival and clear in its revelation of where she would find me if she wished to have a formal acquaintance between the two of us.  

I paused outside of the pair of towering wooden doors that guarded the drawing room that lay beyond them.  Within, the light was very faint and many shadows were cast by the torches that I had had lit.  I would keep to the darkness, for if I could hardly live with what I looked like, what would my appearance's effect be upon her?  

My animal's heightened sense of hearing informed me – telling by the faintest suggestion of materials whispering and brushing against one another, and the even fainter trace of a human heartbeat – that she was already there, waiting for me.  In all likeliness, she was expecting me to spring out from the shadows and act accordingly in a beast's manner: show her no mercy, kill and devour her like an insatiable lion.  I took a deep breath, holding it within myself as I waited for my resolve, for my strength, to build itself up and force me into movement, and then I stepped forward, pushing the door open, making certain that I made no noise to betray my presence there.

The door swung silently open and I was looking into the room.

Across the gleaming marble floor, with her back to me as she stared about herself and her gaze focused on something far above either of our heads, was the one who had been promised to me.  

I stood still, watching her, for a moment.  

She was very young, from what I could tell.  The gown that she wore, one of those that I had had provided for her in her room, played up to her figure beautifully, which was slender and curvaceous to a point where no one could have called it any less than perilously beautiful.  Her hair was long and straight and very smooth, and light in colour: blonde, perhaps.    I then scrutinized her movements, hoping that she wouldn't turn around suddenly and see me there, for that would surely frighten her and I wanted neither hysterics nor an unconscious body to deal with.  

I carefully remained in the shadows.  

She carried herself with extreme grace and poise, as if she had been trained by the best of comportment teachers: her back was straight and firm, and her movements themselves were fluidly graceful and elegant.  She was surveying the room.  I wondered what she was thinking.  

A few more moments of silence passed.

"So…" I said, suddenly: my voice only a murmur. "You are Beauty."

Surprising me, she remained perfectly still: betraying no sign of fear, surprise, or anger, all of which I had thought she would greet me with.  I continued to watch her, assessing her meticulously.  Ah, so she shows no fear.  She is brave…

"Welcome to my castle, milady."

As soon as I had finished speaking, she dipped into a deep, refined curtsey, without turning around: her skirts whispering as she moved and pooling on the marble.  "I have come, my lord," she said, in a voice as quiet as the whisper of the faintest breeze on a summer's night, "To fulfill the vow that my father made to you."

I made a low musing sound before speaking my next comment.

"You are brave then…and honourable."

She, I think, had realized that I stood not to the front or the side of her, but behind, and I stepped further into the ether of the shadows as she began to slowly turn around.  Since I could see through the darkness more easily than she could, I was the first of the two of us to be favored with a glimpse of a face.  

She was beautiful.  

What am I saying?  She was more than beautiful.  She was dazzling, brilliant, goddess-like.  She was beauty!  

Her face was young and smooth as only a maiden's could be, and her features were petite and gently curved.  She had ample, well-proportioned lips, a firm yet graceful chin and jaw line, a delicate, straight nose, angled eyebrows, a high but not overwhelming forehead, and large eyes of a light colour that I decided had to be either blue or gray.  Her neck and head were in perfect balance with her shoulders, and she seemed as if she could be a famous dancer, or a statue come to life, or certainly at least the muse of some aspiring artist.  Beauty.

"I am not brave, milord," she said, looking intensely and unflinchingly towards the shadows in which I lurked as if she knew that I was there.  I caught a glimpse of something bright that might have been tears shining in her eyes when the light fell across them, but it was only a fleeting glance.  

I had caused her pain.

Then the ridiculousness of that thought: the thought that I was allowing myself to feel pity for this girl in front of me, who was now my captive, who would always hate me for what I had done and for what I was, dawned on me.  And I felt a squirm of revulsion and pent-up, festering anger twist my stomach.  I, who was faery and needed no one to know me, no one to save me or help me, was letting myself feel for a mortal.  I was letting myself empathize with her, feel her grief…letting myself think of the impossible.

I was only hurting myself.

No, you fool, I thought, as the old, bitter taste of all my horrible memories flooded in to me.  You're not going to do this.  You'll only cause yourself pain.  It didn't matter who this girl, this child, was.  I would not let myself be taken in.  I would not let myself become open to more pain, more heartbreak and agony.

There was no giving in.

"You came." I replied, icily. "That is enough."

We were silent for a moment, and then I said, abruptly and coldly, "There is nothing here that will serve to harm you, milady; you must not be afraid.  As long as I am the master here, you are the mistress.  Everything is at your command."  

I spoke calmly, evenly, and almost emotionlessly – but inside, in the deepest realm of my heart, I felt that the core of my entire being was trembling violently.

NO!  You do not need this child, this infant, to remain standing!  You can survive on your own strength, without anyone!  You are yourself!  You need no one!

She gazed in my general direction for a moment longer and by then I knew that she had ascertained that that was where I was.  Then, she spoke and her words threw me into a panic, making my heart pound with fear.

"Please…may I see you?"

I felt a shuddering sense of cold revulsion come over me.  She didn't know what she was asking for.  She wouldn't be able to bear it.  No one could.

"Beauty…" I began, but nevertheless I stepped out of the shadows.  

She remained where she was, her face as even, calm, and almost emotionless as it had been the moment before.  But that was because she hadn't seen me: most of my body was covered by the long black cloak that I wore, and my hands were enclosed by black gloves, and my feet were hidden beneath black leather boots.  

"So, you wish to see my face?" I asked, contempt and barely-veiled mockery dripping in my tone: a sneer twisting my face.  All of my bitterness, loneliness, anger, and distrust of the world in general now began to surface. "You are brave for coming here, milady, but perhaps now we shall see how far that bravery can go!"

She shook her head and there was a flashing defiance in her eyes.

"If I need fear nothing here, why should your face terrify me?"

Brave – too brave, perhaps!

I narrowed my eyes, a growl beginning to resonate in my throat, wondering how – if she had known just what was lurking behind the hood of my cloak – her reaction would have differed from such a plain show of outright defiance as she had just given me.  

No one, in my entire life, had flaunted his or her own self-righteous freedom in my face!  No one had ever taunted me, wordlessly, with the fact that I had no power to control him or her at all, in the end of all things – and now this child had the gall to come here and stare straight at me like she was!  Of all the possible insults—  

At that exact moment, in horribly perfect timing, I saw a Spryte darting through the shadows behind her head, where she couldn't see it, and then I heard its voice within my mind as it told me, smugly, The maiden has a point.

I know she has a point, blast it! I mentally snapped back at it, still watching Beauty.  She doesn't know what she's asking for!

"Very well – so be it!" I snarled, and reached up to pull the hood away from my face and backwards onto my shoulders, letting it drop.  

We stared at each other.

I could very easily tell you what she was seeing, for I knew it all too well even though I had mostly avoided mirrors or anything that could reflect my new self after my transformation.  Unless dragons had dramatically altered in appearance during the time of my self-imposed exile, that is what I looked like: a cross between one of the terrible reptiles and a human, or faery, with a human-like body but a head, hands, and feet that were undoubtedly monstrous.   All of which came complete with an wide mouthful of frighteningly sharp, white fangs.  

"So, Beauty, now you have seen the Beast – are you satisfied?  Have you seen enough?" I asked her, everything within me writhing with anger and disgust.  Her eyes roved over my face, over my clothing and everything on my person.  She was studying me just as I had studied her.  

"What – aren't you afraid?" I spat, viciously.

She shook her head.

"No.  You told me not to be…and I don't see anything that I should fear.  It's you.  Your face, your voice, you.  I can't be afraid."

I turned away then, hiding from her the emotions in my eyes.  

"No…you can't." I added the last two words so that only I could hear them, and they echoed strangely in my mind.

Master your emotions, blast it!  

Finally, I looked up and met her eyes again, although something in my spirit flinched when my gaze met the brilliance of hers.  

"All of this castle is yours to make use of, milady." I said this coldly and formally, indicating a general sweep of the castle with a broad gesture of my arm.  "My servants – whom, I do not doubt, have already made themselves quite available to you – will always be about when you need them.  They will obey you to your exact command."

I was about to leave her when she called after me.  

"Milord?" 

I stopped at the door, driving myself to a screeching halt, and rested one hand on the doorknob, feeling as if I was leaning against it so heavily that I would collapse when I let go.  I closed my eyes, pain and humiliation coursing through me.

"Beast – you will call me Beast.  I am not a lord." I growled.

She was silent for a moment and then she said, softly, "Beast."

I turned back towards her and she gazed at me for a moment: hesitating, it seemed, before she spoke.

"Why?"

There was no mistaking what she meant by that question.  I knew it, and she knew that I knew it.  I returned her gaze, my eyes dark: shadowed by disgrace.

"It's lonely here.  I'm sorry.  You had a life."

"It wasn't much of a life that I left," she replied, and I felt as if I could have dropped dead with shock at those words.  She didn't miss her life!  She wasn't angry with me for taking her away from her family and the world that she knew!

Just what kind of maiden was this?

Some things were just too much to think of, and our conversation in those last few moments was one of those things.  I quickly bade her farewell, before my threatening emotions overwhelmed me before her, and then I practically fled down the corridor as soon as I had closed the drawing room door behind myself.  I went to my own chambers, slamming the doors there behind myself with a frenzied burst of sheer passionate rage, and climbed out onto the roof above my bedroom's balcony.  

Once there, I crouched on the tiles, digging my claws into their tops so that I would not slip, and turned my head up to the moon as it climbed high into the sky above me.  

Beauty was here and she did not hate me.

However, I was still a Beast, and I hated myself.

*                       *                       *

Author's note:  Like I said, it isn't exactly love at first sight.  More to come soon, and we will see how they get along in the future…  ^_^


	6. Beast

Author's note:  Here we are given a bit more insight from the Beast's POV, after he has met Beauty for the very first time.  It's already obvious that sparks are destined to fly between these two, but what else is fated to happen?  Read to find out.  Thanks, by the way, to all who have reviewed.

**Rosethorn**: a special thank you for undertaking the monumental responsibility (although it may be more of a pleasure to you!) of keeping my dear little troublemaker Gavin out of mischief.  I'm glad you are enjoying my second story, and have no fear, Arin, Ella, and Gavin will make a cameo somewhere in here, although it won't be for a little while.

**Lexi**: Sorry, I would have e-mailed you with the answers to your questions, but under parental jurisdiction, I am no longer allowed to correspond with "anyone I don't know".  But hopefully, I will still be able to tell you what you want to know from here.  ^_^  Orlando – yes, that is his original name, and yes, he still remembers it.  He was also a faery nobleman, who would have eventually become a prince, but the whole curse thing kind of ruined that.  Also, I have almost all of the chapters for this (except for the grand finale, mwahahaha) written up on the computer.  Let's just see if I can conquer my writer's block enough to complete it…

Disclaimer/claimer:  Some are mine, and some aren't.  You decide which is which.

(Beast, continuing from the last segment…)  

"…but still I am a monster."

The next morning I awoke with a stunning headache and the realization that I would have to see my new captive, for that was what Arielle Honorine Bellissima Rose Laclarien now was to me, sometime that day.  I supposed that I ought to let her settle in to the castle first, and see whatever she wished to see while she familiarized herself with her new surroundings.

I kept myself occupied all that day then, giving out orders and taking reports from the Sprytes, who all seemed very much elated to have a guest, and such a beautiful guest at that, to play servants to.  I could only guess at what Beauty thought of their service to her, because I was already quite accustomed to it, to magic and enchantment on the whole, and could no longer marvel in what I saw.  

She and I did not come across each other all that day.

As dusk fell, however, I began to turn my thoughts towards seeking her out.  

Where would she be – in one of the many libraries, perusing the volumes there, or surveying a dining hall or ballroom, or perhaps looking around at the gardens outside?  

My last guess proved to be the most accurate, for I sighted her slowly weaving her way through the marble paths in one of the gardens that was closest to the castle.  She appeared to be in deep contemplation.  

Obviously, she had discovered the jewelry and other finery that I had had provided for her use, for she wore a few articles of it, which sparkled in the waning light of the sun.  The cloak that she wore over her normal attire was dark, its hem and edges lined with some kind of fur.  

I decided that I would let her make the decision of whether we would speak to one another or not, and stepped out of the shadows beneath the doorway which I stood behind, letting the ebbing sunlight fall over me.  I had pulled the hood of my cloak over my head once more, so that my face remained hidden.  

It was almost as if she had sensed my presence on the stone terrace that overlooked the gardens in which she walked.  She looked up, her long eyelashes flickering like the light of a candle that had been disturbed over the brilliance of her eyes, and our gazes met.  Then, she paused in her progress towards the stairway that led up to the terrace.  I took a deep breath and moved down the steps, slowly, and came to stand a little ways in front of her.

"Good evening, milady." I said.

She curtseyed, her eyes never leaving me.

"Good evening, Beast," she replied.

I regarded her for a moment longer in silence, and then inquired, "I hope you have had a pleasurable time on your first day here?"

Something rippled through the air between us – some emotion that I could sense emanating from her, something like both slight resentment, loneliness, questioning, and…perhaps…fear.  I ignored it, and then she nodded, slowly: her light hair moving with her head, and her fingers rearranged their grasp on the book that she held in them as she adjusted the hang of her cloak.  As I gazed closely at her features, discovering that there was something familiar about them, as if I had seen other features like them before.  

But that couldn't be.  

"Yes – thank you." she told me, and she gestured briefly at the castle and the gardens. "I've been…exploring a bit.  Your servants…" 

She hesitated, as if she was unsure of what to call them, and I cleared my throat a bit, then supplied for her, "Sprytes." 

Visibly recognizing the name, she nodded and continued, "They've been quite instrumental in my finding my way around this place.  I…" 

She hesitated again. 

"I could get lost very easily here, knowing myself."

You have no idea, I thought, my lips curving upwards in the grim semblance of a smile.  "Oh…yes." 

We stood in silence for a moment after that, and then she spoke, surprising me yet again. "Would you walk with me?" she asked, hesitantly, as if she thought I would refuse.  I stared at her, briefly startled that she could possibly desire my companionship, and then I mastered my emotions and nodded.

"If you so desire, milady."

I followed her down the snowy footpath, heading in the opposite direction that she had come from, and she paused to wait for me to join her at her side.  We then walked down the path, past the glorious explosion of jasmine, orchids, and ivy vines, past the sprays of sweet-smelling gardenias and colourful dahlias that bloomed in spite of the coldness of the perpetual winter that lived in the castle's lands, and past the stately statues, stonework, and other artwork that I had displayed in the gardens.  The air was heavy with silence.  Finally, she spoke, tentatively.

"It's very quiet here."

"Too quiet." I replied, frowning darkly.

We walked on again, silent, and then, after a while, I carefully stole a glance at her, turning my head only a few degrees so that I would make minimal movement, peering beyond the edge of my hood.  She was looking off at our surroundings: a distant and give-nothing cast to her eyes and face.  It wasn't hard to read her at that moment – her heart was elsewhere, far from this castle – far from me.  I shuddered slightly, thinking of how once I also would have done the same, given the same reaction, if I had been met with a creature such as the one I now was.  

Once, very long ago…once upon a time…  

My train of dreary, black thoughts was suddenly interrupted when my beautiful companion stopped, turning towards me with a questioning, searching look in her eyes.  I looked at her, polite inquiry in my air, but in the next split second, I was taken completely off-guard by her words, seemingly simple as they were.  My wits went flying, and I was forced to go scrambling after them, hoping for a recovery.  

"Why did you ask for me?"

Stunned by this, I took a moment to consider my reply.  In the meantime, I swept an automatically elegant courtier's gesture for her to walk on ahead of me around a turn in the pathway, disguising my hesitation towards a reply, and then followed behind her, once more joining her at her side when the path broadened again.  

I found that I had to place my steps very carefully when walking with her; one stride of mine could easily outdistance hers, which all the more served to remind me of how tiny she was compared to me: the monster.  I felt like a giant standing next to her, looking straight down onto the top of her head.  But, with some conscious effort, I managed to keep a relatively adequate pace.  

To answer her question, however—

"Because…" I began, as we rounded a curve in the pathway that led towards a long, high wall that was covered entirely in roses – what else? "Because you had asked for a rose.  You seemed special."

I stopped then, turning halfway towards her, my back to the wall, and then I took my eyes from hers for a moment in order to do one simple thing – and that was to break a large rose off of its place on the stem where it grew and hold it out to her.  Her eyes lifted from the rose in my paw to meet my eyes, and we gazed at one another for a long, serene moment.  Then she took the rose from me, but her fingertips never touched mine.

My heart was gripped by talons of bitter iciness.

Suddenly, she dropped gracefully into a bench that stood behind and to the side of us.  She wouldn't look up at me then, but stared, instead, at the rose.

"Am I special."

The sentence seemed more like a statement than a question, and her voice was low and even, and almost emotionless.  I saw that her bright eyes had turned to look off into the distance, gazing at a sight, a world, that was beyond that which was immediately in front of our eyes.  I shuddered inwardly, and then I spoke, breaking the silence.

"They're yours – all of them."

That appeared to startle her, for she took her eyes off of the rose that she held in her lap and looked up at me, staring and seemingly bewildered.  

"How can you give them to me?" she asked, continuing the conversation without pausing to have me clarify for her what 'they' were.  We both knew that I had meant the roses, of course.  It was strange how we had managed to understand the unspoken in one another not merely once but twice since her arrival and our meeting the evening before.  She knew the words that I hadn't said as well as I knew the words that she hadn't said.

I refused to look directly at her as I replied to that.

"Because I desire you to have them."

"I thought…" she trailed off, and it looked as if she was searching for words, a line appearing between her arching eyebrows, and finally she said, "All of this happened because Papa took one of your roses."

"And you thought that they were forbidden to you as well?" I guessed, caustically.  I shifted in position so that I faced her again, and my eyes met hers from underneath the shadowing cover of my hood. 

"You are as much the mistress of this castle as I am the master, and I can deny you nothing.  They are yours."

I can deny you nothing but your freedom…the one thing that you must desire the most.

She was quiet for a moment longer, and so was I.  We were both too utterly absorbed in our own thoughts to speak quite yet, and when she looked up at me again, I was surprised to find that the questions in her eyes had disappeared.

"Could you tell me their names?"

Oh, be careful you fool…don't be taken in…

But I answered, "I could tell you more than that, milady…"

*                       *                       *

"But, tell me, do not you think me very ugly?"

The sun had just set when we returned to the terrace that I had first seen her from that afternoon.  Arielle was a very attentive listener, I had discovered during our meandering through the rose gardens.  So not only was she charming, kind, brave, honourable, and astoundingly sweet in spirit – she was also gracious and witty, and knew when to speak and when to be silent.  Her voice was like music.

When we had reached the stairway leading up to the terrace and the castle itself, I stood aside to let her pass in front of me and was about to speak when she turned around, pausing a few steps above me, and spoke.

"Won't you join me?"

I lowered my gaze, ducking my head in order to avoid letting her see the emotion that had sprung to my eyes: total and utter humiliation.

"I-I can't." I stammered, my heart beating faster that it had the moment before. "I – I'm – I'm not like you, Beauty.  I…"

There is no explaining this to her! I snapped inwardly at myself, furious at everything and anything.  You are a monster!  She will never understand!

Suddenly, an awful, overwhelming sadness and then rage swept over me like a gigantic wave on the ocean shore, and I looked up at her, my anger and grief reflected in my eyes.  Silently, trying very hard not to erupt into direct violence in front of her, I raised my gloved hands from inside my long black cloak and held them up for her to see them.  Then, staring straight into her widening eyes, I commanded her. 

"Look."

And with that, I slowly and deliberately removed the gloves, one finger at a time, placing them in one paw when I had them both off.  I extended my right arm, bending it at the elbow, and held it so that my hand was facing with its back to her, mere inches from her pale face.  I stared into her eyes again and repeated myself.

"Look."

Then I tightened the muscles of that arm, and a queer trembling sensation went through it, from the fingertips to the shoulder—

Nine inches of wicked, shining ivory claws shot out of my fingertips, brandishing themselves at her.  

I refused to release her from my stony, cold gaze as I pulled my hand back, away from her face, and wordlessly took the rose that I had given her earlier from her hand.  I gazed at it for a moment, wondering how so many things – how so many things, both those sublimely beautiful, loved by all, and those frighteningly ugly, repulsive to one and to all – could exist side by side in such a world.  I realized that she was still watching me, in complete silence, and I looked up at her.

And savagely shredded the rose between my razor-sharp claws. 

I stood back, resigned and gripped by bitter grief.

"That is why I can't, milady.  Good night."

After that, I somehow controlled myself just long enough to bow to her, feeling as if I was about to tear into shreds with the threatening violence of my anger.  She gazed at me for a split second longer: a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, and then she turned and, without a word, fled back to the castle.  I watched her go, my eyes never leaving her slender, tiny body until she had disappeared within the fortress.

So this is the way it is to be. 

We are caught like this, in this invisible trap: this net of horror and despair, and there will never be any escape for either of us…you, and me.  

I wish I could have made this better – for you, for me, for both of us.  

I wish I could have been myself…

But that is what I am this very moment, isn't it?

This strange, detached, abnormal voice in my head spoke now: softly and sadly, completely unlike my usual thoughts.  And somehow, its words angered me all the more.  My entire body beginning to tremble, I pushed my hood back onto my shoulders and raised my paws once more: staring at them as horror, revulsion, and complete and dire hatred raced through me, making my blood rush.

Who was this creature that had become my body?  Who was this awful monster that had somehow trapped my soul within itself?  I had once been an enchanter and future prince in the White Realm, and now what was I?  

A beast!  

No longer would I see a head of half-curly, half-wavy, and very much unruly golden-brown hair in my reflection in a mirror, no longer would I see a pair of large, hungry, intense light blue eyes looking out at me from the depths of my being or a face set with high, thoughtful features.  No longer would I have a normal body or hands that were able to grasp a sword or a quill.  Instead, I had a malformed figure and rough, scaly paws tipped with needle-sharp claws, too clumsy to even undo the clasp of my cloak without ripping it to shreds!

And Beauty.  

She wasn't a mere child, a little nothing that my pride had so willingly enabled me to brush her off as the night before.  She was a beautiful, incredible young woman, and what could I give her that she would deserve?  I couldn't offer her a life here.  What was I to a vision of loveliness like her?  

I was a beast, and I was trapped, and there was no way out.

Oh no, you fool, a part of my mind told me, in a knowing tone.  There is a way out, and you know it.  You know it all too well.

"No." I said, and the word came out sounding like the whimper of a frightened child.  I felt myself collapsing inwardly.

I couldn't remain in her company for very long without being reminding of my beastliness.  Even in that afternoon, hadn't I found my mind wandering from my explanation of a certain rose's name to considering what she would think of me if she saw what I did to the creatures that became my prey?  I couldn't eat with her.  My table manners had long since vanished, and my disgrace would never end if she ever knew how I behaved after the sun had set.  

I was a monster.

That thought somehow finished it – I could restrain myself no longer.  I let off a great howl of pathetic, animal heart-soreness and anguish and then bolted for the forest: the only place where I could completely tear all memories of who I had been from my mind and make myself forget.

The night air that had rushed into my lungs as I gasped for breath during my flight made my blood race intensely, filled with an exhilarating coldness.  I felt the wind in my mane, zipping against my skin, and the forest rushed by me with startling speed: a great, rustling darkness.  My cloak, outer tunic, gloves, and boots were gone, leaving only the tattered remains of my shirt to keep my shoulders, arms, and torso from being exposed to the icy winter air.

Now, at last, I was free to be the one thing that I had hoped to never become.    

Silent and lightning-fast, I tore through the forest as the rays of the moon that had managed to find their way down through the canopy of the tree branches glided and flashed over me like teasing phantoms.  In a wide-open, bright clearing stood a doe, foraging about for some small bit of vegetation that had survived the frost, snow, and ice.  She didn't have a care in the world.  

I stopped and crouched in the brush, gathering myself together.

You see, forest creature, I said mentally, within my head, there's a fatal mistake in thinking that there's nothing for you to concern yourself with.  There are many dangers in the world, and if you don't look for them, you'll be destroyed.  You'll underestimate something, and then your life as you know it…

Will be over.  

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"I am almost frightened to death…

Author's note:  So there we have it: more of the thoughts behind the actions.  Beast isn't going to be such a brat the whole time, and you really almost have to pity him – he's really a nice guy inside and he wants to do what's right, but living under a curse for three centuries and being severed from your family because of that is bound to mess with your mind a little.  (Not to mention warp your manners…)  Please r&r!  

@à---


	7. Beauty

Author's note:  So now, after we've heard a bit from the Beast and his take on the situation, let's see how Beauty is dealing with this new set of circumstances.  Her reaction may be a bit more surprising than you think…

Disclaimer/claimer:  Some are mine, and some aren't.  I am running out of creative ways to say what things I own and don't own, because my Disclaimer/claimer Muse is on a current hiatus, curse her.  Getting on, however.

Beauty:

A Strange New Life

_When Beauty was alone, she felt a great deal of compassion for poor Beast._

One morning almost a week after I had come to the Beast's castle, I awoke in my lavish princess's bedchamber and considered, for the first time, just how strange my life now was.  How strange _everything_ here was.

_For starters,_ I thought, as I rolled over onto my stomach and folded my arms underneath my large, fluffy linen-, lace-, and goose down-pillow, _There was the journey here.  _I could not fault the ease and comfort of the ordeal.  The mount that the Beast had provided for my transport had been swift and well trained, however spirited, and within only a few hours of our leaving my old home, we had reached the borders of the palace where I now lived.  

I don't know how long we traveled, but I distinctly remembered feeling as if we were flying through space and time at a speed that I could not begin to clock.  I don't even know how far we had traveled, or where the castle was in relation to the farm where I had lived.  

As if it even mattered.  

I didn't expect to return there any time soon.

The only thing that had served to tell me that we were very near to the castle was the towering, twenty-foot-tall stone wall that stretched out to my right and left for as my mortal eyes could see.  The trees of forest through which we had ridden stopped suddenly, in a perfect line, before that wall, and there was a pair of gigantic, imposing gate-towers that stood solidly nearby, some hundred yards or so from us.  

The stallion had pranced a bit more, as if he was excited – which I took, dubiously, to be a sort of good omen; if a horse could exist in this terrible place, couldn't I? – and then headed for the tower.  I had had to catch myself up on the expectation of seeing an armored guard lean out of one of the vacant, dark windows of the tower and bark out a hearty, "Who goes there?" upon marking my approach.  

Nothing of the sort happened, and the gates of iron that stood firm and solemn before me glided noiselessly open, revealing the lands within.  

An expansive, wide-open field of shimmering green grass stretched out before my wondering eyes.  

It had to be _much _more than a mile wide.  

Then…there was the castle: its towers and ramparts and roofs standing tall and proud, serene and glorious and foreboding, in the late, golden afternoon sun.  A small forest, the treetops of which came to just about halfway, I judged, up the castle walls, surrounded it.  The castle itself, however…  

I had recalled Papa's description of it, and thought of how he had said that it was as enormous and beautiful as an entire city in and of itself, but the words 'enormous' and 'beautiful' seemed _colorless_ and frail indeed now that I had seen it with my own eyes!  There was no way of translating the sight into words.  All of the castles that I had ever seen seemed small and trite compared to this one.

_Is this where I am to live?_ I had wondered, and then…  

_This is where_he_ lives._

My thoughts had threatened to be very anxious and terrified indeed then, but I remembered that I was here on behalf of my father, and that I had been drawn here by a force beyond myself, and that my trust was not in my own strength, but in the powers of the Three who were sovereign over all life.

And so in I went.

I had seen wonders that surpassed all those that I had ever seen before in my life during the first five minutes after my arrival that day.  

Gardens, some carefully kept and perfected like a fine lady's coiffure for a state embassy ball, and some wild and careless, greeted me, along with a host of pathways and alcoves and courtyards.  The castle towered above me, the countless numbers of its highest towers seeming to pierce the sky itself.  

I felt as if I was a speck of dust compared to it all.  

After this, I had dismounted and was staring at my surroundings when I realized that my mount was no longer standing beside me – even its bridle was gone, having disappeared out of my hand.  Alarmed, I had turned to look about for it, and then something very strange had happened.  

A glowing being, something that moved and floated about and was shaped almost like a star, had materialized in the silent air beside me, hovering in the general area of my elbow.  I had started, feeling as if I could jump out of my skin.  While I had stared at the strange being, which shifted in shape with incredible alacrity from time to time – changing from a little burst of light to a bird-shape, a winged human-like form, and a host of others all within a few seconds – I had received the impression that I was being looked over.  And assessed.

It had spoken, and again, I had nearly jumped out of my skin.

"You are Beauty?"

_This is _Éindor_,_ I had told myself, trying strenuously to master my emotions before they ran away with me and sent me flying from the castle and everything within it: promise, or no promise.  _You knew that there would be things here that would be unlike anything that you'd ever seen before.  This castle and whatever lives within it is obviously that type of thing.  Get a hold of yourself, you nonsensical child!  You wanted adventure – magic, even – and now you have it!_

So I had mustered my voice and spoken, stammering, "Y-yes.  Arielle."

The little creature had bounced about enthusiastically in the air, which I took to be a sign of either recognition: its equivalent of a nod.  

"Yes, of course, Arielle – Beauty.  Arielle Honorine Bellissima Rose Laclarien.  Welcome.  We are the Sprytes."

I had almost looked over my shoulder, around myself, to see if there were more of the little creature's kind about.  _We_?

"The Master," whom I had taken to be the Beast, of course, "Has sent us to greet you and assist you in your settling into your new home here."

_Home_?

He wasn't planning on _eating_ me?

I had held back a great sigh of relief.

"The Master also wishes to give you this," whereupon it had presented me with a rolled manuscript: a message of some sort, "and would like for you to know that you are free to ask of us whatever you wish to know.  You need not be afraid."

I had read the letter, which was written in a deft, scrolling hand – one which belied an elegant, intelligent, and very self-assured writer – and looked up at the Spryte, feeling bemused and muddled.  Perhaps I should seek this 'Master' out, as the letter had invited me to do.  However, I had deferred any further action on those grounds in order to take the letter's other invitation – and that was to let the Spryte show me to my new rooms – and asked if it would show me inside.

That led me to my second thought about the strangeness of the castle.

_Everything is unbelievably beautiful here, and I am still alive._

My room was one that was surely fit for the wealthiest and most fantastically powerful of empresses.  I had several cavernous rooms, including my bedchamber, a dressing room and a sitting room, and a receiving suite.  All were ornamented with fineries that I could have only imagined up until that point of my life: gold, silver, jewels of every shape, size, and kind, and wonders too great to be described unless in very great detail and precision.  

I had been expecting a place on a silver platter on the dinner table with an apple stuck in my mouth, or at least a filthy and dark dungeon room in which to languish out my last days on the earth – but certainly not a princess's living space.  Not this.  Not with a gorgeous place to live in and entire freedom.  Not with a wardrobe of immensely beautiful gowns that seemed to go on forever, or a selection of jewelry, books, perfumes, bath things, shoes, and various baubles that rivaled those of a queen.  Not this.

And then there was the strangest thing of all.

_The Beast._

As he explained the names of the roses to me the night before, I could have easily imagined him to be nothing more than a quiet, soft-spoken, thoughtful, grave, and even somewhat shy young man who had never before been alone in a girl's presence.  Of course, that was withstanding the incredible cold, disdaining pride and utter bitterness and anger that seemed to vibrate from him, which I had seen after I had attempted to invite him to share dinner with me.  

_But what kind of person is he beneath his icy, contemptuous exterior?  It seemed as if he's very bitter, very hurt…because of something._  

I didn't know what it was, but _something_.  

Well, beyond that, he was just a _bit_ frightening.  Of course, that opinion was counting on mere appearances, and I think that anyone would have been slightly unnerved by the thought of having to speak to – or live with! – a being that was _easily_ over seven feet in height.  I felt small and incredibly weak indeed when I imagined myself standing next to him.  His diaphragm was just above my eye level.  

As for his face…it simply very much resembled that of a dragon.  

I had never seen a real dragon before.  The only specimens of the race that I had ever laid eyes on were those that were illustrated in books, and even those supposedly _realistic_ renditions seemed rather silly and unreal compared to the Beast.  There was a fierce, dangerous air to his features: a demeanor that told me that I should be _very_ careful where I stepped when it came to interacting with both him and his castle.  

That was what was most frightening about him, I decided – the thought of what he would be like if he was angry.  I didn't want to think about seeing those huge golden eyes alight with blood-red fury, or those incredibly white fangs bared for combat.  I really didn't want to think about what his hands looked like underneath their gloves either.  

And yet…in spite of all this…I had easily overcome my apprehensions about his intentions towards me.  Even after less than an hour of speaking to him on that first night, I had begun to think that he was not, perhaps, as terrible and monster-like as my father had said.

And if he _was_ monstrous, he knew it and knew it _well_.  

Oh, the memory of the look of utter pain – the look that spoke of deep grief, and bitter anguish, the look that I had seen in his golden eyes the night before haunted me at every turn, refusing to let me forget what had happened.  I felt a consuming guilt for what I had done.  I hadn't meant to hurt him, and although he had disguised the pain with anger and cold resentment, I had seen it there in his eyes: a brief flash of emotion that allowed me to glimpse the soul that was suffering within his powerful, hulking, frightening body.

It had seemed as if he was almost as frightened of himself as he expected me to be.

So how were we to treat one another?  I scarcely knew how to deal with him, how to form my actions and manner.  Events had already shown him to be quite volatile, if that was even quite the word for it.  And what were we to each other – captor and captive, or prisoners together here?  Or something else entirely?  It was all too confusing, and it was all too strange.  I didn't know whether I wanted to resent him from taking me away from my father, bless him for rescuing me from an unkind stepmother and stepsister who I could never prove my love for…or…or what? 

Well, there was only one thing for me to do right at the moment – play the game as it unfolded and showed itself to me.  

If I was to exhibit an angry and bitter side of myself to him, acting the part of a prisoner who wished to do nothing more than to escape her dungeon and its jailer, I could not foresee a very happy train of events before me.  And truly, the _last_ thing that I desired to do was to incur his wrath!  

I would simply have to resort to being one thing: myself.  I would stay true to myself, I would not alter or bend, I would be me.  I was here as payment and not as a guest.  I _was_, in all seriousness, the payment for the wrong done to the Beast, and whereas I was a living means of payment, who could certainly think of herself as a prisoner held against her will in a gilded cage, the Beast _had_ told me that I was as much the mistress in this place as _he_ was the master.  

I, the captive, had _complete freedom_!

"Enough lazing about in bed, Arielle Laclarien." I told myself, speaking aloud, and my voice seemed deafening as a cannon shot in the silent room.  I sat up, my hands moving to draw my hair over my shoulder and smooth it, continuing to speak to myself as I did so. 

"Just because you're being treated like a fine lady now doesn't mean that you can let yourself go all soft and sluggish.  It's time for a walk – _that_ will wake you up and take your mind off of all these terribly confusing things.  You don't have to try to understand _anything_ about this castle.  All that you can know is that you're here merely to be here, and everything else is _his_ concern." 

There I stopped my brisk monologue and felt my brows furrow.

"Now where would those Sprytes be?" I asked the air in a more serious tone.

And at the exact moment, the same Spryte that had greeted me that first day came zipping in through the door across the room from me, the door that led in through the drawing room beyond my bedchamber, and hovered in the air a few feet away from me, literally scintillating with some overjoyed emotion that I couldn't begin to understand.

"Beauteous morning, beauteous morning, beautiful Beauty!" it bubbled, whistling through the air to dive under the delicate, sharply ice-blue silken dressing gown that I had left draped over the top of a wing-back armchair the night before.  The garment lifted and floated across the room towards me, looking as if some invisible person was holding it by the shoulders, and I put my back to it, pushing my arms down the sleeves.  

The Spryte whizzed around behind me and I felt my hair plaited into a loose but well-done braid.  And, knowing the Sprytes and their sense of aesthetic beauty, there were probably several sprigs of some light purple flower tucked into my hair here and there.    

I went to the sparkling, crystalline windows that had been set into the wall on the right side of my bed and flattened my hand against the crystal-clear glass pane, and the Spryte unlatched it before whizzing off, presumably to fulfill some other duty.  A bit of the sunny morning breeze flew into the room to greet me, and I looked out over the castle's endless wintery lands, resting my elbows on the window ledge and cupping my chin in my hands.

"That's another strange thing about this place." I said. "No one ever seems to be about for more than a few moments, and I don't ever see the Sprytes doing anything in the castle, even with as many walks as I've taken."

I thought warmly of the excursion that I had made the previous day, and of the ballrooms, halls, and various other chambers that I had discovered.  Every day it seemed as if I was seeing a new part of the castle, and yet it never seemed to grow any smaller!

"And as for the Beast…well, he just hasn't been around lately.  I wonder…I wonder why he's been avoiding me.  Since that night when we saw each other in the garden…I just don't understand it."

_I hope I haven't hurt him that much,_ I thought, with a tinge of dismay.

Before I had had more than a moment's time to bite my bottom lip and frown in guilty concern, the door opened again and one of my Sprytes flew in.  It dipped a graceful little bow and I restrained an urge to giggle at it, although it seemed as if it would have been pleased that it had made me laugh at its antics.  

"Would beautiful Beauty have her lovely breakfast first or would she like to bathe?  Or has she something else in mind?"

A bath sounded very appealing to me at that moment.  Back home…  I stopped myself on thinking of the house that I had shared with my father, stepmother, and stepsister as _home_, because it had never been that – not with the way that things had been there.  _This,_ I told myself firmly, this_ is home now.  This is what you have, and since it's more than you deserve and it's certainly much better than what you had before, you had better be thankful for it._  

And I _was_.

I turned from the window and replied to the waiting Spryte, "A bath has a certain appeal to it right about now, I think.  But I would like breakfast later…" 

Then I hesitated, thinking of where I should tell the Spryte that I wanted to eat.  In the past few days, they had all been entreating me to eat in one of the castle's many dining halls, but I had kept to my rooms, thinking that it would be better.  However…  

"I think I'd like to eat in the dining room today – since you've suggested it."

The Spryte whirled around in excitement, shedding little sparks of light as it did so, making the air scintillate with a lovely, strange sort of glow.

"Of course, of course, beauteous Beauty!  Yes, yes!"

A few moments later, my bath had been arranged in the spacious washroom that adjoined to my dressing room.  

I entered the chamber to find that the windows within it had been flung open, and the air from outside – warm, in spite of the snow and ice outside – was rushing in and making the delicate, sheer misty curtains at the windows drift inwards.  Birds sang happily and the sunlight edged in, making a playful pattern on the salmon-pink and cream marble floor.  The huge silver bathtub had been moved to stand just beneath one of those windows, and a delicious cloud of steam with a refreshing and uplifting fragrance of bergamot, grapefruit, and lavender was rising from inside of it.  Tiny round candles had been lit and placed around the tub, both on the floor and on the window ledge above it.  

_Oh bliss._

As I scrubbed my arms with the mint-and-jasmine-scented soap, I thought of several things: namely, what my breakfast would be that day, what I would wear, and if I would see the Beast at all.  If he was the only companionship to be had, I was certainly ready to see him, although the solitude that I had experienced in the last week had been extremely pleasant, for I had never had very much free time to myself for quiet thinking, reflection, and meditation on the things that a normal young girl of my age would be learning in her schooling.  Since we had come to Éindor, I hadn't been able to do much in the way of continuing my studies, but now that I apparently was to be given a substantial amount of time to myself…

Well, that could wait for later.  I would most definitely enjoy curling up in a deep, plush chair with a thick volume of world history in my arms like a priceless treasure, accompanied by a silver caraffe of some of that truly _lovely_ white hot chocolate that the Sprytes had presented me with several days ago, laced with light and foamy sweet whipped cream, to be disposed with at my whim.

But only _after_ I had had my bath, eaten my breakfast, dressed, and taken a very long walk through the castle grounds.

"Are you there?" I called, turning my head over my shoulder to glance towards the other room, hoping that I wouldn't disturb the 

Spryte too terribly much in whatever it was currently doing.  It whizzed in through the door and hovered in the air over my head and slightly behind me.  

"What is it that the beauteous Beauty would like for me to do?"

"I'll need a towel, please." I answered, looking ruefully about myself, for I had forgotten to arm myself with such a thing prior to entering the bath.  The Spryte obligingly fetched a large, sumptuous white towel for me and set it down on the edge of the tub, waiting patiently as I rinsed myself off, and only then did it move to gather my hair together and pile it gracefully on top of my head.  I stood and wrapped myself in the towel, and then I went into my dressing room.  

One of the greatest things about having a Spryte, which is quite a magical being at that, for a servant, is not only their never-ceasing good humor and talkativeness but also their adeptness at taking care of their charges.  My bath water never got cold, my eggs were always just as I liked them and never overdone, and the taste shown in the gowns of my wardrobe was impeccable.  

Of course, I still felt somewhat self-conscious here in this fantastic castle: me, a small, quite mortal little girl of seventeen, who hadn't the slightest idea about what magic was and how it worked other than what faery tales had told me.  

And even then, I had to wonder what was true, and what was just inherently foolish.  

But there was no refusing my new station, whatever it was, and my duties ostensibly included living in _and_ wearing the finery that had been provided for me.  

The gown that my Spryte had chosen for me today was an innocent but also somehow knowingly sensuous gown of blushing peach crêpe that seemed to slightly change in colour, like an opal, when the fabric was shifted.  

In front, its bodice appeared as if it would have liked to make a dive for a deep V cut but had been prevented by a backing piece of cream-coloured satin, with golden lattice embroidery and pearl detailing.  Its sleeves were long and graceful, with puffs at the shoulders and elbows, and the skirt was sleek and ample-cut, dropping from the gown's high waist.  Behind, starting at the shoulders, there was a long, trailing sort of cape of the same peach-coloured material.  The back was laced with gold ribbon and the gown's entire accenting trim matched the gold and pearl work on the bodice.  

The Spryte assisted me into my corset after I had dressed myself in my other underclothes and then it tied the back of my dress for me.  

That day, I opted for simplicity in garb, as well in jewelry, footwear, and makeup.  After the Spryte had dried my hair – a feat which I cannot quite accurately describe; it felt like having a gust of wind blown across my scalp, and suddenly, my hair would be completely dry and smoothed to perfection – it placed a gold and pearl lattice sort of cap on top of my head, securing it at the very back of the crown of my head.  

After that, I added a pair of delicate, unassuming gold filigree earrings and a little garnet bracelet, but that was it for gems today, I decided.  I then brushed a line of smoky brown eyeliner onto my lids, softening it with just a hint of pink at my brow bones, and with a quick whisk of modest peach blush and a brush of coral lip-rouge, I was ready.  Oh, and then shoes, which were, today, a pair of simple slippers of ivory and gold brocade, with low heels set with diamond chips.  

_Simplicity _indeed_!_ I thought derisively.

My Spryte had long since disappeared, and so I went in search of the nearest dining room, which was a good ten-minute walk from my rooms.  It had a theme of warm, friendly crimson red and snowy white, and several crystal and gold chandeliers hung over the enormous table.  Chairs of intensely intricate and truly lovely form stood in two straight rows down the table's sides, with a pair of throne-like seats at either ends.  It was into one of these that I was ushered by several of my Sprytes.  

My breakfast came rolling in through the doors at the room's far end, and the silver cover lifted off to reveal a scrumptious repast, the main element of which was toast with a custard-like texture on the inside, sprinkled with powdered sugar and dotted with sweet butter, garnished with mint leaves.  Along with it were a poached egg and a sliced nectarine that had been arranged in the form of a sunburst.  Two glasses – one of ice-cold, fresh milk and one of water – were also provided for me, along with a cup of tea: black, flavored with ginger, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves, and cardamom.  

I dropped a pair of sugar cubes into the tea and added a touch of cream, then ate in silence, only stopping when the entire breakfast was gone.  I wasn't ravenously hungry, but I couldn't think of anything else that I could do right at that moment other than eat what I had been given.  My Spryte, or one of them, came and whisked the dishes and remains of food away, leaving me on my own again.  I sat back in my tall, ornate chair, and eyed the table top in front of me.

Suddenly, I found myself wanting to see the Beast, to spend time with him and talk with him.  

Undoubtedly, the master of this castle was a great magician – what was I thinking, a _magician_?  He was an _enchanter_, and no less, of course! – and he most likely knew quite a bit about the world, about life and stories and magic, which I found, I had quite an interest in.  He could be an interesting companion.  

And I felt sorry for him, in some strange way.  I hadn't known him for long: I hardly knew him _at all_, but from what I had seen in my short time in this castle, he was lonely and sad.  What grieved him, I had no idea, but pity and compassion rose in my throat to choke me every time that I thought of him and the depth of the dark, incomprehensible misery that was in his eyes.

I would be a friend to him.  

I would show him that I could see past his strange outer countenance – which didn't frighten me, as he had shown no true malice towards me at any time, and I was not given to appraising someone by their face, for so had my father wisely taught me early in my life.  I would be kind, friendly, light-hearted, and understanding, and we would come to know each other.  

After all, what else could I do but spend time on myself?  

I got up, pushing my chair back, and left the dining hall, intent on doing as I had already planned that morning.  First, I would take a walk and then I would read in the library for a while.  And if the Beast hadn't shown himself to me by then…well, _I_ would simply seek _him_ out!

*                       *                       *

Author's note:  How will this turn out?  Read on!


	8. Beauty

Author's note:  Beauty continues her narration of a day in her new life at the Beast's enchanted castle, and she makes a startling revelation about herself…

Disclaimer/claimer:  The usual, I don't own 'f_airy_' tales, I own 'f_aery_' tales, blah blah blah.  I also own the faery language, some of which you will see in this chapter – fairies may not be mine, but _faeries_ are!  On with the story.

(Beauty's point of view, continued)

_However, she thought she might as well walk about until then, and view this fine castle, which she could not help admiring; it was a delightful, pleasant place…_

I was stunned anew every single time that I saw one of the castle's many libraries, of which there seemed to be no end.  Their walls were at least seventy feet high, and were entirely covered in shelves of hundreds of thousands of books.  Another twenty feet of space was devoted to cathedral-like, domed ceilings that were ornamented lavishly, sometimes with gold, sometimes with silver, sometimes with crystal, or even paintings.  I entered the first library that I came across and went to the nearest row of shelves.  

The books that I saw dealt with the faeries of the White Realm.

Most of the faery tales that I had ever heard, or read, had to do with that place, and I had long wondered what it was like.  Surely, if anything were even close to the fabled palace of Avalennon, it would be this castle!  And that gave me a great thrill, thinking that my new home was _somewhat _like the places in the greatest legends.  

I picked out a book and carried it over to the chaise lounge that stood near, placed close enough to the fire that its flames gave me enough light to read by, but not so close that its heat was overbearing.  It was still winter, but today the sun shone beautiful and bright.  It was extremely pleasant, for winter.  Upon opening the book and scanning its title, I discovered that I had made a slight error.  

Éindorean was the given international language and nearly every person in any country of the Known World spoke it, but this book was in the faery tongue!  I felt instant disappointment.  How was I supposed to read the tales within the book if I had no grasp whatsoever on the exalted language of magic and enchantment?  

But then something very, very strange happened.  My eyes focused on one of the words.  _Tythliara_.

"Stories."

I jerked as if I had just experienced a seizure and stared at the page before me, unable to believe what I had just done.  I had never read anything in faery before, and I certainly hadn't ever spoken it…and yet I had just translated that word into my own native tongue as if I had been fluent in faery all of my life!  I hastily read the next word, _Jisinoir_, just to reassure myself that I wasn't seeing things.  

"Told."

_Stories Told._

This wasn't happening.

"Stop it!" 

I slammed the book's cover shut, pushing it away from myself abruptly, and as I stared at it, recoiling from its leather cover and gilded pages as if it was a poisonous reptile of some sort, I felt myself begin to tremble.

_What's happening to me?_ ran through my mind.

I got up again and ran from the library, questions and fears and uncertainties whirling in my head.  Blindly, I fell against the doors and fled, not quite knowing where I was going but certain that I had to get away.  

So I went the only way that I could – the way that my senses told me was _out_.  Then, as I stepped into the clean, fresh sunlight outside, I lifted my face to the skies, letting it drink in my living presence, and tried to clear my mind.  

_No_, this castle wasn't playing horrible, dirty little tricks on my mind.  _No_, I wasn't reading faery words and understanding them perfectly.  _No_, this _wasn't_ true, it _couldn't_ be, it would _never_ be…!

I ran down the stairs that led out from the doors through which I had just passed, down the garden path, gravel flying when my feet hit the ground.  I sighted a gracefully beautiful pergola with an angled roof and pillars that served as its walls, upon which ice-laced ivy grew in abundance, and ran into it, catching myself against a pillar and holding onto it for support, as I buried my face in the curve of my arm.  My chest was heaving for air because I was struggling so hard to keep myself from bursting out into frantic tears.  

"What _is_ this place?" I cried to the air that surrounded me. "Why are you doing this to me?  _What do you want_?"

What do you want, what do you want, what do you want.  

The phrase filled my mind, turning into a thousand echoes of itself, and I felt as if I was just about to go mad, if that hadn't already happened.  

What kind of powers were governing this castle, that it should have flowers that always bloomed, and floating, shape-shifting orbs of light that could speak, and other wonders that I couldn't begin to imagine?  And a Beast was an enchanter!  What did he want from me?  Why was this happening to me?  What was going on?  Was I losing my mind?

Then I thought of myself and what I had been before all of this had happened, and I thought of my bitter life with my hateful stepfamily, and of my father, and of the white rose, and of the Beast, and somehow, _that_ was worst of all.

I don't know how long I had been there, gasping for breath and sliding in and out of consciousness.  Suddenly, I received the sense that there was someone else near me, standing just a little way off, and I looked up, dazed, and stared.

"Beauty…"

I had managed to become used to what the Beast looked like, as his face didn't frighten me, and I had even somewhat accustomed myself to the sound of his voice, which was sometimes like a cross between that of a human and that of a wild animal, but somehow hearing him say my name at that moment was both startling and comforting.  I gazed at him for a moment, feeling numb and detached from reality.  

He was wearing black, as always, but the hood of his cloak had been thrown back on his shoulders, as if he had forgotten to pull it up.  He looked…concerned.  Worried.  Anxious.  His golden eyes were searching and yet strangely gentle, and I wanted to collapse into a torrent of tears and sobbing.

"What's wrong?" he asked me.

I was jerked roughly back to reality.

"Beast…" I said, the one syllable word of his name sounding more like a whimper than a greeting from my numb lips.  I looked deep into his eyes, seeing gentle concern and a genuine desire to help in them.  

_Even a Beast could have emotions.  _

And then, suddenly, I wanted to tell him what was wrong.  I wanted to tell him what had just happened to me, and I wanted to confide in him and let him tell me, since he was the master of this castle, what was wrong with me – if that was the case.  I wanted to feel the calming reassurance of telling someone of what lay in my heart.

"Something's wrong with me." I told him, looking up at him with both uncertainty and fear in my eyes: the same uncertainty and fear that was in my soul, haunting me. "Something's wrong with me and I don't know what it is."

He looked at me for another moment, seeming to read something in me, and then he moved, very slowly, as if he didn't want to frighten me, and removed his long, full black cloak, placing it on my shoulders.  The cold wind hesitantly stirred his thick golden mane, and I whispered, "Thank you."  

A slight nod of the head was all the reply he gave to this; and then he gestured silently for me to take a seat on one of the several marble benches that had been placed nearby in the pavilion-like structure that we now stood in, seeming intent on something else, something far in the distance.  I did as I was directed to, and for a very long moment, we were both motionless, wordless.  

Suddenly, he turned his head back to me and caught me looking at him.  I was surprised anew by the…I don't know what to call it; the humanity, perhaps?, in his dragon-like eyes as he returned my gaze.

"Nothing is _wrong_ with you, Beauty," he said, putting a special emphasis on the word 'wrong'.  He moved again to rest one hand, which mostly resembled a cross between a human wrist, palm, and fingers and a dragon's claws, on the pillar that he stood next to, half-leaning up against it.  Holding his still warm, heavy cloak about me, trying not to shiver, I watched him carefully.  

"There _can't_ be – believe me, you would have known.  Things that are wrong, as opposed to simply out of the ordinary, don't happen in a place like this without…" 

He hesitated, seeming as if he was searching for the right word to describe what he was about to say. 

"Without someone's realizing it.  _I_ would have known."

Then he glanced at me, as if to verify that I understood him.

I did.

Then, he asked, his voice soft, "What is it, Beauty?"

I looked down at my hands, which I had woven together in my lap, and told him, in a rush, of all that had happened to me that morning in the library.  

By the time that I was done and had raised my eyes to his face again, I was feeling more shaky than before.  And he had a very peculiar expression on his face.  One that seemed almost like the dawning reflection of recognition…however _that_ could be.

"Beauty…" he began, in a queer, intense tone, "did you ever know your mother?"

He knew about Nelisia, who was my stepmother, but why he was inquiring about my long dead, real mother was beyond me.  I shook my head, confused.

"She died giving birth to me."

He was scrutinizing me then, I realized.

"I can't believe it.  It's absolutely beyond anything…" 

He trailed off, and I was suddenly hit with the realization that he knew something – something about _me _– that _I_ didn't.  My curiosity piqued in spite of my fears, I gazed at him in interest and asked, trying to keep my voice level and unhurried, "What?"

But he was shaking his head and staring at something in front of him, seeming as if he hadn't quite heard me.  Then, he replied, "I _knew_ that there was something about you that I recognized.  Something in your features, in your way of moving, in your voice, your eyes…" He shook his head again. "It's almost beyond belief."

"_What is_?"

I was feeling very desperate.

Finally, he looked at me, and there was a new light in his golden eyes.

"You're _faery_, Arielle.  Half-faery, to be exact…but still faery."

I felt faint.

"How – you – _what_?" I sputtered.

He roused himself and stood straight before me, his black figure casting a shadow over me, and rolled his powerful shoulders, seeming restless as he dragged the claw-tipped fingers of one long, well toned hand through his mane.

"I'm an enchanter, milady," he said, reverting to using my formal title instead of my name, which he had just called me by the moment before. "Wielders of magic and enchantment often recognize each other.  Your mother was from the White Realm – you have the look of the faeries in your features, you move with their same inherent lightness of step and grace, you speak with their elegance of voice, and your eyes have the wondrous sparkle of true magic in them.  You're faery.  It explains your being able to see the things here – the Sprytes, and such – and accept them for reality.  It explains your ability to read the faery language without ever seeing it before.  You have great powers."

I felt as if I was in the middle of a strange but wonderful and terrifying dream.  I was half-faery, he could see that I had the blood of the legendary White Realm in my veins, and I had great powers.  _Powers_?

"What kind of powers?  This is…impossible!"

He sank down onto one knee beside me, still keeping a respectful distance of about two feet between us, and his eyes pierced into mine, searching and alert.

"_Nothing_ is impossible in our world, Arielle."

Suddenly, I felt as if I loved the way he said my name…

"Nothing.  You are a member of a race of a great people, milady, and you have powers of magic and enchantment resting within you, simply waiting to be used.  It _is_ your choice whether you embrace this side of yourself or not, but…" 

He eyed me again, speculatively. 

"Your powers can be made to work at your whim, to bend to your will…if they were trained."

I was trying very hard to process all of this through my head.  I had never known my mother.  All I could be certain of, from seeing my father's one tiny portrait of her that he had kept in a locked drawer of his personal desk in our home, was that she had been very beautiful, with a pristine complexion of porcelain, vivid blue eyes that Papa said mine were so much like, and hair of spun gold.  

_Why _couldn't_ she be faery?_ my mind asked, as I began to accept what the Beast was telling me.  It was all becoming clear, and for some very odd reason, I knew that all of this…was true.  Why couldn't my mother have been faery?  It certainly explained her incredible beauty, for it was said that faeries were the most beautiful beings in the Known World, and it also somehow explained my comprehension of the faery book.  Then why couldn't _I_ be half-faery, and have powers of my own?  Why _not_?

There was no reason _why not_.

_If they were trained…_

I looked at the Beast, who had turned away from me again, and I felt as if I was seeing him with eyes that were no longer clouded by doubt or by fear.  Then I realized what he could very possibly be offering to me.

"Beast…"

I stood and crossed over to stand in front of him.  He craned his head down – way down – to look at me, and then we both stared into one another's eyes.

"Could you…teach me?"

Was it just my mind, or did those golden spheres flicker for a fleeting second?

"Beauty…you know what it is that you ask – but, the question is…are you willing for this?" he asked me.  There was something very grave, something very heavy and pressing, in the air between us.  

_Is this what being faery is like?_  

I reached out my hand towards him, pulling it back just before it came to within touching distance, and looked at him full in the face then, asking myself in my mind if I would ever learn how to read that feral and untamed, embittered but saddened, passionate and yet defeated face.

"I'm not sure of anything in my life, Beast…" I replied.

"But yes…I am willing."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Author's note:  Like I said, Arielle has now made a rather startling revelation about her true heritage – she is of the same race as two of her favorite storybook legends, Arin and Elladine.  (And, by the way, if you don't know about these two, my other brain-children, read my first fic of this hopeful series, Wings of the Heart, found in the Originals section under the fantasy category…)  Now let's hear some more from the Beast, shall we?  ^_^


	9. Beast

Author's note:  So now both of our highly interesting protagonists have begun a bit more of a comraderie, but not quite.  The Beast now explains why…

Disclaimer/claimer:  If you haven't read the other disclaimers/claimers at the beginnings of the other chapters, I'm wondering why, but hey, that's life and it's all good.  I own Arielle, Orlando, Saruptal the wizard, Nelisia, Tizirra, Doran, and anybody else involved in the story who hails from the White Realm and is not featured in normal fairy tales.

Beast:

Dreams, Thoughts, and Worries

Beauty spent…months very contentedly in the palace.

I woke in the middle of the night – almost more than five months after Beauty had come to the castle – from my sleep, my mind whirling and my chest heaving for air.  Frenzied, I sat up and looked around at my surroundings, the terror of the dream that had just possessed me carrying itself through into reality.  Where am I? went through my head, and then, Where is Beauty?  What's happening here?

Suddenly, I realized that I was no longer caught in the nightmare and my fear dissipated, leaving me ice cold and trembling beneath the bedclothes.  I fell back onto the pillows and stared at the black expanse of the canopy-cover above me, letting its blackness consume my mind.  

"It was only a dream." I whispered to myself, swallowing hard as my heart continued to thud in my chest. "It was only a dream.  It wasn't real.  It was only a dream…only a dream."

But, the question was, had it been just that – only a dream?

I sat up a little bit, leaning back on my elbows, and surveyed the room around me again.  The moon's pale rays shone in through the windows, casting a blend of shadow and light into the room: highlighting and darkening pieces of furniture, walls, draperies, and whatnot.  

Most of the room, I could tell, even by the scarce amount of light, was a veritable ruin.  Being a beast, faery side or no faery side, had many drawbacks, most of which I have already named.  A certain inability to maintain order in my personal dwelling place was one of those.  Somehow, however, the Sprytes managed to make the place look at least somewhat inhabitable, which meant that several of the chairs in it still had their brocade coverings and the bed was generally unscathed.  

Having claws and fangs and a regrettably short temper when it came to my curse, however, wasn't much help.  My mind was drifting then and I had to bring it back to its original, intended path.

The dream.

I hadn't seen the wizard who was the cause of my misery since the beginning of my three-hundred year exile from my true self and home, but there had been no mistaking the figure whom I had seen in my dream.  He still had the same hawk-like eyes, the same sharp features, the same hair, mustache, and goatee, and the same completely infuriating demeanor of self-assertive arrogance.  Yes, perhaps, he looked a bit older now…but was it now?  

The entire vision had seemed all too realistic…

Restless, suddenly, I got out of bed and crossed the room to the huge doors that led out onto my balcony, grabbing the black-, turquoise-, and blue shirt that I had left thrown over a chair nearby the night before and pulling it on as I went.  I shoved the tall, heavy doors wide open and walked out onto the balcony, my skin beginning to prickle all over at the touch of the cold air.  

It was near dawn, I sensed, telling from the change in the atmosphere.  Soon the birds would begin to stir themselves, the deadly nighttime shadows would retreat, and dawn would come.  An icy, hesitant breeze whisked onto the marble balcony, brushing up against the stone and riffling its timid fingers through my rough, unruly mane, and I caught the scent of morning on the air.  

Calm, I told myself, Calm. Now think.

Saruptal had been in my dream.  It had been as if I was invisible, an unseen observer in some secret meeting between the wizard himself and a youth who looked like he might have been an assistant of sorts.  I hadn't been able to tell exactly where they were, but it certainly hadn't been the White Realm.  Even in my subconscious state, I would have been able to know my beloved former home.  

The wizard had just entered the room in which I seemed to be present, coming up from a winding stairway.  Tables with books, glass instruments, and all sorts of bubbling liquids were present all about the place – a study of sorts?  

"Things are going well for us, Arvoer," he had commented to the wiry, nervous-looking boy who was with him. "Soon we will find the means to destroy the pathetic existence of our dear, dear friends…however, he is still out there, and that means that we are yet threatened.  If it is discovered in the White Realm that there is a hint of betrayal from our quarter, everything that has ever been worked for here will be destroyed." 

He had narrowed his eyes then, and seemed to be looking for something, searching with his piercing, hawk-like gaze.  

"He is out there…somewhere…and I intend to spend every power that I have, if I must, to find him."

Saruptal, the wizard who had been so vehement in his desire to carry out the orders against the thief who had stolen the famed Book of Hours, was evil, the dream told me.  He had turned against the White Realm, if he had ever truly been in its service, and now he was plotting to destroy it.  But this wasn't real.  It couldn't be.  I had had many realistic dreams in my life, but none of them had ever been of actual events.  It was simply wraiths of my own tortured mind that had brought this on.

And yet…you have to wonder.

If Saruptal was looking for me, he wasn't going to find me.  I would make sure of that.  I had no desire to meet up with him again after what he had done to me, and if he was indeed evil – if he came to find me – or Arielle—

"He will never find her!" I swore fiercely, my voice turning into a snarling hiss, as I gritted my teeth together, my claws moving to dig into the marble ledge before me. "He will never find her, and if he does—"

I'll kill him.  I'll kill him first, and then she will be mine.  

All mine.

Suddenly, I was horrified at my own thoughts.  What was I – more monster than faery?  I was thinking the type of thoughts that a dragon, an insatiably jealous, bloodthirsty creature, would think in regards to his territory…or to his mate.  

Oh no.  

I would never let any harm come to Beauty, I knew that, but what were these thoughts of rage and murder and blood that were invading my mind and possessing me?

*                       *                       *

All of that – my dream, thoughts, and worries combined – twisted my mind so that it put me in a very bad mood.  I felt sullen and jealous and concerned and tired and resentful even more so than usual, and I hardly even knew why.  By the time that full morning rolled around, I was in no way ready to let the bright new day change my demeanor.  I avoided the places where I knew Beauty would be and kept mostly to my own rooms, shutting the Sprytes out and brooding in the awful silence, which somehow seemed the only thing that wouldn't drive me perfectly mad.  

In the five months that Beauty had lived here, and after our agreement for me to be her teacher in the matters of magic and enchantment, we had scarcely had anything more between us than simply a master-to-apprentice relationship.  I spent very little time with her.  I didn't dare trust myself with anything more than a few hours of being at her side, and it took every ounce of my strength and resolve to force myself into knowing that I could not have more.  

I couldn't trust myself to be friends with her.

So we had a very standoffish companionship, and it was all because I knew that there was still a darker side of me that was uncontrollably and inherently animal.  

And there was no way out of it.

For centuries, I had been wracking my brain trying to figure out how I would find the person who could help me break my spell.  Could it be Beauty?  I had hardly let that thought sink into my mind before I dismissed it, because what if she wasn't the one?

What if I never found the one?  

Beyond this doubt and fear, only one thing stood in the way of my being a friend to Beauty – I couldn't let go of my pride.  

If Beauty ever saw me for the beast that I was, if she knew that I wasn't really this ugly, revolting, malformed animal, my humiliation would be greater than I could yet imagine.  I couldn't tell her of who I was, I wouldn't tell her of who I was, I had no idea of who could save me from my curse, and I couldn't bring myself to giving in to the hope that it might indeed be her.

Fate, whatever it was and however it worked, was not that kind.

The Sprytes mostly kept away from me that day, and I noticed that Beauty did not seek me out.  News of the happenings between the castle's only two non-Sprytian inhabitants traveled quickly.  More quickly than I liked.  All day long, I was in a foul disposition because of my inability to be with Beauty, because of my dream and the worries that it had brought on.

And then everything became a thousand times worse.

*                       *                       *

Author's note:  Duh-duh-duhhhh!  What exactly does he mean by that?  Read and see!


	10. Beast

Author's note:  Continuing from the last segment, the Beast narrates the events in a terrible scene in which he confronts the darker side of himself…with Arielle as a witness!  (This chapter is one of the first in which you see the reason for this fic's PG rating; it holds some extreme angst and a bit of mild violence and blood, but I promise that it isn't that bad.  Nothing that anybody who's ever read the old versions of the Grimm Brothers' fairy tales couldn't stomach.  But just FYI.)

Disclaimer/claimer:  I bow to the great romantic genius and talent of Mme. Marie le Prince de Beaumont, the lovely lady who first gave this most beautiful of fairy tales to the world in its original French, and to Mme. Gabrielle de Villeneuve, who was responsible for the lengthier version of this story.  However, some of these characters, their adventures, and the places in which they come to pass, are the prducts of my own unleashed imagination.  I seek merely to entertain.

(Beast's point of view, continued)

That evening, I skipped dinner and went instead into the library that was nearest to the wing of the castle where my rooms where, hoping that perhaps some intense reading would take my mind off of my current predicament.  I selected several thick volumes of such an in-depth nature that I would have to concentrate very hard on them in order to understand what they were saying.  I banished the Sprytes from the room, telling them not to disturb me for any reason, and began to read, glowering at the small print on the pages in front of me.  

But reading faded into a haze and I was restless and sullen only ten minutes later.  I slammed the book shut and threw it down roughly.

The echo that it made upon landing on the floor seemed to grow louder – deeper.

But it wasn't an echo.

It was another sound entirely.

A door had just been closed.

I vaulted out of my seat and made a dash for the nearest staircase, which led up to the second floor of the library.  Only after I had made it into the shadows provided by a set of shelves did I turn to look down into the main chamber.  

Beauty was there, but she hadn't noticed that I was there.  Good.  There was no way that I could see her tonight.  No way in any world.  I then retreated into the deeper recesses of the library, hoping that she would stay on the first floor so that we wouldn't run the risk of meeting up.  

A long while later, I decided that it was time that I returned to my chambers and went towards the main entrance to the library, hoping that Beauty had left.  But she was still there.  I found myself interested in watching her, and my concentration took my mind off of its current thoughts.  She stood up from her chair, looking as if she was about to walk across the room to replace the book on its shelf, and I caught sight of a bit of a mischievous look on her face.  Then she levitated the book through the air and used her powers to return it to its original place.  

I stifled a bit of a wry laugh.  She had become quite an adept enchantress even in only those five months and I was quite impressed with this new side to her.  

And, quite obviously, so was she.

She turned again towards the doors, but paused, her gaze seeming to fall on something that was on the table in front of her.  She reached down and quickly – as if she didn't want anyone to know what she was about – moved one of the ruby pieces on the chessboard that was there.  Then, she moved away from the table and disappeared into the further recesses of the library.

Play a game, shall we?

I waited another moment, making certain that she wasn't going to come back and surprise me, and then I ran down the steps and across the floor to the table with the chess board.  It was quite an interesting piece: even I had to admit that.  Its black and white spaces were made of black opal and ivory, and its playing pieces had been carved out of ruby and crystal.  Beauty had moved a ruby pawn.  

My bad mood, worries, and fears flying from my mind, I hastily made a move of my own and ran to hide in the shadows of the room beyond.  A few moments later, Beauty returned and, to my immense but somehow strange delight, she noticed the change on the chessboard.  She made yet another move and when she was gone, I did the same.  Soon we had a full-blown game in progress.

The excitement and interest of the situation was overcoming me, and it was too much.  It was pure fun to play with a creature like one's cat or dog, which was small and tamed and quite harmless, but to stir up a dragon was an entirely different matter.  The pounding of my heart and the whirling of my mind tore the last vestiges of sense and control from me…and when she ran away from the table once more, I could resist no longer.  

With a growl, I lunged out from my hiding place and raced after her.  I cornered her at the end of a row of shelves, and she turned towards me, obviously not quite realizing what was going on.  

But I was beyond thought then.  

Snarling, I grabbed both of her hands at the wrists and pinned them against the book shelf that I had trapped her in front of, and a lust for blood and the freedom of being a total animal came over me as I took in her flawless, silky white skin and her pure, defenseless form.  With one flick of my claws, I could lacerate her veins.  She would feel no pain.  I could bite her, and it would all be over in a split second's time.  Guilty pleasure, but oh, she was perfect – perfect and beautiful and right in front of me, and all I had to do was give in—

"Oh fates – NO!"

I stopped myself, horrified, and wrenched away, releasing her.  Then I backed off a step, staggering drunkenly, and held out my paws towards her, not knowing whether the gesture was one of attempting to beg for pardon, or of telling her that I wasn't this creature: this thing, that I meant no harm to her, or of shielding myself from her dazzling brilliance.  She was staring at me, leaning against the shelf, her eyes wide and her face completely bereft of all emotions except for two.

Terror and disbelief.

"Beauty, I…"

But I couldn't say any more.  What was there to say?  She knew now.  She knew that I was a beast, a monster, at heart, and that there was no way that she could ever trust me to be anything else.  She knew, and I wished that I were dead.

"Beast—" she began, and I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that she had stretched out a hand towards me, but I wouldn't listen, I wouldn't look.

I whirled, turning my back on her, and bolted from the library.  

I didn't stop running until I had reached my bedchamber – and then I let the full power of my fury out into the air, ceasing to hold back.  The sound of my enraged, heartbroken scream, changed into an unearthly, ragged roar by my curse, slammed into the walls and made every surface about me, the air, and the walls themselves vibrate.  I could have killed her – her! – in one thoughtless, animal moment.  I could have lost my soul!  

Or had I already lost it?   

"Why am I cursed like this?" I screamed to the silent, dead night air. "Why did he have to do this to me?  I'm locked in the body of a monster and with every passing moment I feel more and more as if I'm losing my entire blasted mind to its freakish will!  I mean, for the Powers' sake, what kind of father was he?  What kind of animal am I?  Why did this happen to me?"

And the more that I thought about it, about what I was, the more unfair it seemed that I had to have been the one to undergo the curse, and all of its pain…while my father, the true wrongdoer, had escaped from the justice that he deserved!  I hadn't escaped – I had fled, and it was all because I had been changed into a monster as punishment for a crime that I didn't commit!

The Sprytes had left the room and I was alone, but I didn't notice.

I was surging with rage.

Oh, that night – that horrible night!  Everything that I had known, everyone whom I had loved, everything that had been mine: it was all taken away from me that night.  I remembered lying helpless on the floor, looking up into the gloating, black-and-gold eyes of the wielder of magic who had come to apprehend the thief who had stolen the Book of Hours.  I remembered the terror that I had felt as those eyes had pierced into me – looking at me as if he knew, he knew, that I was not the one.

The pain.

Great howling incredible dire mind-breaking agony.

Shape-altering enchantments were one of the most forbidden spells to cast in the White Realm.  There was scarcely a wizard, sorcerer, enchanter, or enchantress who was foolhardy enough to spring one such enchantment into being.  

But Saruptal was an exception, and therefore, the change that had been wrought in me was an exception.

I recalled, as I glared, chest heaving and hands clenched, into the glowing flames in the fireplace before me, the agony that I had gone through.  

I remembered each detail with perfect clarity: there had been a searing-hot, incredible pain in my insides, as if someone had taken an iron poker, fresh from a furnace, and stabbed it into me.  Then my bones, my muscles and joints had felt as if they were twisting and breaking, reforming themselves into something completely new.  

I remembered screaming – screaming bloody murder and worse.  

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

Then the scales, the thick, rough, reptile-like scales, had appeared, along with a new face, new hands and feet.  New eyes.  

Claws and fangs.

And then I was a beast.

I stumbled out of my room, wanting to leave it, although I didn't know where I was going, and as I passed through countless numbers of rooms, corridors, and other places in the castle, everything blurred before my eyes so that I couldn't tell where I was.  

All I could think of was three words.  

You're a beast.  

Over and over again.

Suddenly, there were two huge doors looming up before me, seeming to look down on me and reproach me for being a miserable, soulless animal.  I blasted them open with a ground-shaking roar and a wildly aimed shot of magic, and then stepped into the gigantic room beyond, which echoed with the sounds of my own harsh, labored breathing.  It was here, in this place, that all of my deepest hate had been concentrated.

The room of mirrors.

Dozens of mirrors lined the walls from floor to ceiling, each glimmering with a terrible, condemning coldness that looked upon me and said, You're a beast.  What are you doing here?  You don't belong here.  

Beast.  

You were not meant to be.  

Beast.  

And my own reflection, that of the body that I had learned so well, in the course of three centuries, to despise, looked out at me: taunting me, staring at me, reminding me of everything.  There was no escape from this.  I was surrounded.  

I felt faint.  

My head began to whirl and the breath in my chest was rattling like a loose windowpane during a violent storm.  I wasn't even sure if I was still standing up.  Then I received the sense that something, something other than my own reflection, was watching me from behind.  I turned.  I saw a different type of mirror before me now.  The other mirrors were normal mirrors.  They showed strictly what looked into them, reflections and nothing more.  But this mirror was different.  

It was a mirror of truth, and it showed not what objects were on the outside, but what they truly were on the inside.  

And there I was – not as the Beast, but as myself.  

Wide, haunted eyes, which I knew were blue, looked out from a pale face with high features, all but hidden by a haze of thick, unruly hair that I remembered to be a colour somewhere between a warm brown and a golden blond.  

My real self reached out a hand towards me, as I found that I was doing the same, and I wondered…how did I ever become like this?

Because someone made you this way.

Because no one cares.

Because you are cursed.            

I stepped back, pulling my hand away, and then I said to the mirror in which truth was shown, "This isn't you anymore – I am, and 

I always will be!"

Then everything faded into a whirlwind of blackness, and I heard the sound of shattering glass, and felt as if the world was being cut off from me.

*                       *                       *

A dim glow ebbed into the blackness, slowly banishing it, and I felt that I was coming back to myself – to sanity.  I felt curiously calm…but was that because I was still almost completely unconscious, or had something happened?  

I let my eyes flicker open, focusing on my surroundings.  I was still in the hall of mirrors.  What had happened?  I really couldn't remember anything from the moments before.  Suddenly, the floor's surface shifted – gently, cautiously, and slowly – and I felt my heart stop within my chest.  I stiffened, and a pale, beautiful face, framed by streams of silky, pale hair, materialized into the light above me, its pair of brilliant eyes gazing into mine.

"Are you all right?"

Beauty.  

She was here, wherever 'here' was, and I could hardly believe it.  The fact that she had been able to withstand the shock of seeing me as I now was had been the cause of much wonder on my part over the past months that she had been here, and the fact that she was faery, and had learned whatever I had taught her, and a host of other things were no less startling.  But this?  I had done my best to hide my monstrous side from her, and now she had seen it…and she was here?  With me?

I fought a dizzy wave, closing my eyes momentarily, and when I looked on her again, I discovered that my vision was a bit less blurry.  I sat up, carefully, minding my faintness, and took in our surroundings.  

The room was utterly still, like the chamber of a dying soul.  Each and every one of the mirrors that lined the walls…each and every one of those mirrors was broken: shattered into a million sharp, glassy pieces that gleamed on the floor around us.  It was as if we were sitting in the middle of a ring…and my head had been in her lap only moments before…  

I shook my head, clearing this dizzying thought – which threatened to overcome me with a sweet, warm, and terribly desirable feeling, taking me away from the moment – out of my mind.  Far, far above us, through the domed glass roof, the moon was gleaming brightly.  Beauty was wearing a lacy white nightgown and a wrap of sorts.  It was late at night.  

I looked at her.  

"How did you…"

She gestured down at my left paw, which was lying somewhat limp and numb at my side.  Her long, glorious hair fell over one delicate shoulder as she moved.

"The Sprytes came rushing to my room and told me…you had hurt yourself."

Of course, she wasn't telling me the complete truth.  I guessed what had really brought her to my side – she had heard the whole 

scene, which wasn't an incredible surprise, as my rage had probably made quite a bit of noise.  

I averted my eyes from her, shamed, and glanced at my arm, seeing that the flesh from the palm up to the elbow was quite liberally shredded.  I had broken the mirrors, all of them, along with the mirror of truth, and then she had found me.  I glanced at the floor beneath the place where the mirror of truth had once been.  Pieces of glass still remained, but there was no trace of blood.  My blood, the punishment I had subjected myself to in my fury.  

Forcing the memory out of my mind, I tried moving my fingers, lifting my hand, but instant twinges of indignant pain flared into being, shooting up my arm violently, and I winced.  Beauty leaned forward, sitting closer to me, and before I had the chance to pull away, she had taken my mangled paw in her own gentle hands and had reached for a roll of gauze that was sitting beside her.  I stared at her, wondering.  

How could she give her understanding to this?  

I could have killed her, and yet she bore me no resentment, or even fear!  After all that I had done to her, she treated me as if I was merely any other person that she might have encountered in her own world.  

What kind of cruelties had she known, then…

"I took out most of the glass when you weren't awake," she explained, beginning to wrap the gauze around my paw, her fingers moving deftly and gently, never once causing the pain to intensify. "If you keep a bandage on for another day or so and try not to move your hand," She said 'hand', not 'paw'! "It should be well fairly soon."

She sat back after tucking in the loose end of the gauze so that it would remain where she had placed it, and our eyes strayed to one another's faces.  

I felt incredible remorse.  

She had never carried any bitterness or malice towards me, even though I had taken her away from her family and her world, and had refused to become her friend, and had shown myself to be unbearably prideful and rude, and had revealed the beast that lay within me.  She had understood, and I had never even tried. 

I moaned, grief overwhelming me once more, and finally pulled away from her, getting to my feet and pausing for a moment as I tried to steady myself, like a sailor does when he first experiences the rolling motion of a ship at sea.  Then I turned and crossed the room as quickly as possible, wanting desperately to distance myself from her so that she would not see my shame – my guilt.  

This was how my life was to be, forever.  This was my destiny, my inescapable fate.  This was how I was meant to live.

I stopped at the doors that led out of the room of mirrors and onto the terrace that looked out over the gardens.  The moonlight caused the snow-covered bushes and lawns and pathways to sparkle brightly, but their optimistic whiteness did nothing to lift my gray mood.  I was rapidly slipping into a deep depression.

And I knew that once I had done that, I would not emerge for a long time afterwards.

I folded my arms across my chest and stared blankly out at the gardens.

So this is the way it is to be…so be it.

Then, a small, gentle little hand slipped onto my elbow, coming to rest in the crook of my arm, and a delicate forearm wound itself around mine.  I was genuinely shocked that she would initiate such contact, notwithstanding the fact that she had been holding me only moments before.  I had been unconscious then, but now I certainly wasn't!  I turned towards her, my surprise and hesitance clearly showing in my eyes.  

She looked up at me, her eyes meeting mine and sinking deep within them.  I couldn't remove my gaze from hers.  It was impossible – it felt like being submersed in a warm, velvety pool of clear water, and looking up at the scenery above: the sunlight shining in rippling waves down upon me, a forest's graceful, lithesome tree boughs of evergreen showing here and there.  It was wonderful.

And suddenly I realized the truth for the first time.  I knew.

If she could learn to see beyond my outward appearance, then I could certainly dispense with my pride.  If she could be so entirely trusting, I could do the same – no matter what scars of past bitterness and anger I still carried.  She could teach me so many things.  Somehow I knew it.

"Beauty…" I whispered, turning towards her, holding my free hand out, stretching it towards her in a gesture of pleading. "I'm sorry."

She reached forward, letting her hand come into brushing distance of my cheek, and then let it fall…coming to rest within my hand.  Our fingertips intwined and that same wonderful warm, blissful feeling rushed through me again, exhilarating and entirely, unimaginably beautiful.  Her lips curved into a sweet, tender smile, warming her eyes.  I thought of a rose when I saw her face, and I knew that, from now on, when I saw such a flower, I would think of her at that incredible moment.  

"Oh, my poor Beast," she whispered. "Don't be sorry.  Be my friend."

Oh Beauty.        

"I will."

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

"I shall always esteem you as a friend…"

Author's note:  See – I told you he wasn't such a bad guy.  Love (and life) never ceases to surprise us…and it shouldn't.  Until the next update then, my friends…  @à---


	11. Beauty

Author's note:  Another large update – okay, I'm bored, and I have nothing better to do.  That's what happens when you get your wisdom teeth taken out.  Enjoy.

**Rosethorn**:  Hey, how's Gavin, is he behaving?  ^_^ And who is Kirith?  I am very curious about that…

**Chien**:  Well thank you for the lovely (and long!) review!  I'm glad you like it, and hope that this tale of mine will continue to entertain you until its end.  

Beauty being okay with almost getting killed – well, her life wasn't really ever in actual danger.  Yes, he lost control for a moment, and yes, it did look as if she was going to be killed (or at least severely maimed), but two important facts remain to combat this.  First, she's an enchantress now so she could have fought him off if it came to that, and second, he wouldn't ever actually hurt her (meaning he would have realized what he was doing no matter what before anything really bad happened).  So as for her being able to forgive him so quickly, it's really simply because she knew that he hadn't meant to act that way – she *sees* a bit more than that.  And, before I get the story started now, you will learn of the Beast's real name very soon…in fact, you'll learn a lot about him in the very near future!

Disclaimer/claimer:  Same as usual – own some of this, don't own some of this, it's up for you to decide, disclaimers are booooooring…      

And now for something completely different.

Beauty:

Of Castles in the Clouds, Literally

_A gigantic beanstalk, reaching far into the clouds…_

That night changed everything between us.  The Beast ceased to make himself scarce during the day and I found that he was, in addition to being quiet, grave, and even somewhat shy, really very kind and considerate, gifted with a stunning intellect, a charming wit, and an alarming intelligence.  He knew all about the world and its ways and could tell me endless stories about things that I could have only imagined before.  I don't quite know if he learned any more about my own character, but I tried to be as much myself as I could, since I was uninterested in playing a part.  

With him, I felt that I could be whatever I wanted to be, could do whatever I wanted, could dream of anything.  

He asked me about my life, and my family, since we had never spoken of them before and I had informed him that I really didn't mind recalling old memories.  I told him about my early life and the places that Papa had taken me to, and I told him about Nelisia and Tizirra.  And even though I tried very hard not to betray the unkindness and spite of my stepmother and sister, he guessed at it, much to my self-effacement.  

I think it was then that he truly understood why I hadn't minded coming to the castle to live solely in his company.

*                       *                       *

We had created a habit, between the two of us, of having my lessons in magic and enchantment in the morning as soon as I had had my breakfast and dressed for the day.  Then we would complete whatever he had planned for me to learn that day, and the castle grounds would receive a visit from the only two visitors that they ever had.  I wondered, casually, from time to time, if this castle had ever been any different than it was now.  Castles were generally the home of a royal family, or at least a lord or a wizard or something to that effect, and yet this one had a master who was neither human nor animal, and no one but the Beast, the Sprytes, and I lived there.  

I didn't care to ask the Beast about it, however.  Some secrets, it was said, were best left to themselves if someone didn't explain them immediately.  

But I digress.

After our walk in the gardens, we would go our separate ways.  I would return to my room, change clothing, and then have my lunch.  Sometimes it would be provided in a dining hall; sometimes it would turn up in a spacious, warm drawing room, or even in the library, once or twice.  When lunch was over, I would read either in the library or in my room until I grew bored of it, or was inspired to other action, and then I would sally forth into the unknown.

For that was what the castle, on the large, still was to me.

I can't remember how many times I lost myself within it, but it always seemed that I either found my way out, or my Sprytes would come to my aid, or I would run across the Beast.  Ah, in _those_ times – meaning when he rescued me from my aimless wanderings – the castle actually had a _plan_ to it, and I could see where I was.  The countless numbers of rooms focused into recognizable positions and I could find my way about.  And then I would lose myself again, but it was all quite worth it.

My life was completely happy.  I had everything I could have ever wanted, I had my new powers to train, I was treated like a princess, and I had the best of all company to be friends with.  Wasn't this much better than being married off by my scheming stepmother to some fat, cruel old toad, or kept in drudgery at home?  

I still wondered, of course, about how my family was faring.  

I hoped that Papa wasn't worrying himself sick over fear for me, but when I learned that I could send him dreams of my wonderful new life, that concern completely dissipated.  Papa knew that I was all right and that I was content, and that was all I need.  Nelisia and Tizirra, I found, were still themselves, and I found myself wanting to seriously consider if there was any hope of them ever changing.

I was lying curled up on a large, amply-stuffed couch of sapphire silk with golden edging, thinking of all of this, in an open, elaborate tower room that was set high atop the castle when I heard steps coming up the stairwell behind me.  

"Are you hiding from me, milady?" came a slightly amused voice.

I turned around, glancing at him over my shoulder, and smiled mischievously.

"Nooo…" I said, drawing out the word. "Just trying to think."

"Am I _that_ terrible of a distraction?" the Beast asked plaintively, as he entered the room and crossed over to the window that the couch had been set nearby.  He looked at me for a moment, as if considering something, and I noticed that he had taken the suggestion that I had given him a few weeks before, a number of nights after the strange episode in the library – the suggestion that perhaps he wouldn't be so depressed all of the time if he stopped wearing black so much.  Today, he wore a deep, regal blue that was a vivid contrast against the darker colour of the couch that I was sprawled on.  

I grinned to myself, reveling in this newest victory, as he continued, "I've had the Geckos out all this hour looking for you."

"Why?" I drawled, languorously sitting up and stretching my arms out above my head. "Haven't you been busy with your…" I hesitated then, not quite knowing how to term the things that he occupied himself with during the day – I knew that, as a result of being a master enchanter, he had his own dealings with his powers, but there was something else that he always seemed to be busy with.  

Something that he wouldn't tell me about.

"With _your_ studies?"

That was as good a word for it as any, I figured.

He shrugged, his powerful shoulders rolling underneath the blue velvet, and I discovered, as I continued to look at him, that he had quite an attractive figure – if you left off the dragon's face, which could, I supposed, unnerve some people.  It didn't bother me, not anymore.  He was very tall, with broad, strong shoulders and a slender build that was incredibly elegant and very graceful.  It almost seemed, at times, that he was more of a cross between a man and a beast, rather than _all_ beast.  After all, his hands were…well, very much like hands, with the exception of the scales that completely covered them instead of skin, and the long, sharp claws that tipped the fingers.  When I wasn't looking at his face, it was hard not to think of him as a man.  His voice was certainly close enough to being either faery or human – it was a clear, soft tenor except for when he was irritated or angry.  I only knew this because of that night in the library, and because _sometimes_ the Sprytes managed to annoy him.

"I felt like seeing you.  When I stop doing something, it's for _me_ to decide."

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"So it's master-apprentice, is it?  Well, what did you want, Master?" 

I stood and faced him, my eyes sparkling with the merriment of teasing him. 

"You didn't come all of this way just to put me back in my place, did you?"

"_No_." he pretended to snap, although the way that the corners of his mouth were twitching and the sparkle in his own yellow eyes made it clear that, even if I _hadn't_ been entirely sure of his playfulness, it would have soon surfaced into reality. "No, I came here to ask you – _milady_," he said the formal title pointedly, bowing with a courtly flourish, "If you would permit me to join you during your lunch today.  As the weather outside is growing quite spectacular today, I thought that perhaps you would like to have it somewhere you can _see_ it.  And I was bored anyway, so…"

"I would very much enjoy your company, milord," I told him, putting down the book that I had been reading and moving towards the door.  He offered me his arm and I wove mine through it, scarcely even stopping to wonder at the fact that we now allowed ourselves contact with one another when, some months before, we had hardly dared to look one another in the face.

"But you'll have to actually _join_ me or I'll feel _very_ guilty."

The winding stairway was dark and cool, and I could only tell that his demeanor was suddenly a bit more serious and melancholy than before by the tone of his voice.         

"You can't really want that, Beauty."

I felt my heart flutter a bit, for some odd, unexplained reason, and then I said, smiling up at him, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want it.  Please, Beast."

There was a pause, as if he was deciding what to do, and then I caught a flash of what might have been considered the exposing of far too many long, white teeth, and I heard the soft chuckle that he allowed himself.

"Alright, little Beauty.  I can deny you nothing."

*                       *                       *

Surprise of all surprises then – during lunch, which we had picnic-style in the library's sunny reading room, the Beast actually _ate_ with me.  He was reluctant about it at first, but I managed to convince him, even though he still somewhat balked when I offered to help him.  Soon enough, however, we were talking and laughing and enjoying ourselves as if there wasn't anything else in the world to concern ourselves with.  

Oh, but there was.  There _was_.

It all started when he left me momentarily to summon a few Sprytes to take care of the things left over from lunch.  

I decided to walk around a bit while I was waiting for him and look more closely at the part of the gardens that the library overlooked – after all, I hadn't yet visited _all_ of them, and this one was certainly new territory to me.  

There were birds singing cheerfully in the trees all about me, the sun was shining, and a bit of a breeze had come up, blowing a few large, fluffy white clouds into the crystal blue sky.  I spotted a long walkway, which had been made into a sort of tunnel by the branches of the trees which stood on either side of it, woven perfectly together, and I moved towards it, interested in seeing what lay beyond it.  

As the snowflake-and-icicle-laced end of the tunnel came up towards me, I saw that the Beast had returned: a dark figure, hooded and robed, was walking down the passage in my direction.  I wondered why he had changed clothing, for now he quite clearly wore black – he _had_ been wearing royal blue that day…

Oddly, he stopped when we had come to almost fifteen feet of one another, and stood, watching me from beneath the hood that he wore.  I felt that my lips had curved upwards in a bit of a smile, but I knew that I was also frowning slightly, as I was very puzzled indeed.  There seemed to be a bit of a chill in the air just then.

"Milady?"

His voice seemed different.  Perhaps the tunnel caused sounds to echo, or change somehow.  I didn't know; so, confused, I replied, "Yes…"

He didn't move, but instead spoke again.

"My, what tiny hands you have."

_All right, what is this?  Something's wrong here.  This isn't the Beast._

I eyed my companion for a moment, wondering exactly what was going on.  Well…if this wasn't the Beast, I would just have to deal with it.

"My, what big feet you have." I fired back.

"All the better to walk through these gardens with," was the reply.

"My, what a strange voice you have."

_Now tell me who you are.  I'm getting irritated with you and your little game._

"All the better to speak to you with."

I took a step backwards, letting my fingers curve and lock so that it appeared as if I was holding two invisible globes.  A warm, tense feeling pressed up against my palms and a faint light grew into being, seemingly emitted by my skin.  I raised my hands and flung them out to either side of myself, and twin beams of dazzling light rushed away from me, hurtling through the air to run up the snowy walls of the tunnel and collect at its roof.  Now everything was lit and I could clearly see the imposter.

"My, what gigantic hands _you_ have." I commented coolly.

He reached up with those same hands and threw the hood back off of his head, revealing a head completely bereft of any hair, with two large ears, and a broad, flat face with scraggly gray eyebrows, beady brown eyes, a hooked nose, a mouth full of uneven teeth, and a double, almost triple, chin.  And he was nine feet tall.

A giant – of course.  Just my luck.

"All the better to carry you off with."

And then he threw his cloak at me.  I turned to run, simultaneously trying to think up a way to fight him, but the heavy, dingy black material hit me and I fell down into a seeming pit of blackness.  

My last thought before I thought no more was, _All right – _now_ what?_

*                       *                       *

Author's note:  A giant – now what fairy tale could this be from, I wonder?  It's not the first fairy tale to be featured in here, and it won't be the last – read on!  (And if anybody can tell me all of the fairy tales that have been in this fic so far, I will see to it personally that that person gets a bouquet of enchanted roses…)  ^_^


	12. Beauty

Author's note:  Anybody up for some beanstalk climbing?  I hope so – because that's where Arielle and the Beast are headed right at the moment.  Hang on…

Disclaimer/claimer:  I may not have created the fairy tales in this story, but I can certainly play around with them as much as possible.  And now we begin…

(Beauty's point of view, continued)

_A giant…_

I was seriously beginning to rue the longing-for-adventure penchant that I had had several years ago as a child.  The whole escapade with the Beast and his magical castle had done nothing but good for me, although I knew that it would take many years for my father to get over it, but now I had been kidnapped by a giant who lived in a large, drab stone house on a cloud and used oversize beanstalks to carry off his victims.  

Now it was getting to be too much.  

The giant, Ingor, wanted me to be his slave.  When I had come out of the black void of unconsciousness that he had put me into in order to spirit me away from the Beast's castle, he told me of his plans for me and my life in his house, and then he informed me that if I wasn't a 'good little human girl', he would eat me for dinner.  

Well, I had no plans for even staying for dinner that night, so obedience in this situation was not an option.  

The house was surrounded by a seven-foot wall, which was made – for the most part – of thick, tough beanstalks.  I could easily climb over it after I had gotten out of the house, but the only problem with escaping was Ingor himself.  I decided that I would have to wait until he was asleep that night.  

I hoped that he was a deep sleeper.

But then, when Ingor ordered me to go into his treasure room to fetch something for him, I discovered something very odd indeed, as if nothing else in my life before that time hadn't been odd enough.  A large, gray goose was living there amongst the heaps of golden coins and other treasures that belonged to the giant.  

A talking goose.  

His name was Griffith, he told me, and once, a _very_ long time ago, he had lived at Avalennon and had had a very exalted position at its court.  That was, until Ingor had kidnapped him as well during one of the goose's vacations to the mortal world.  "So you don't enjoy living up here either?" I asked him, setting the dusty book that I had been sent to the treasure room for down on the floor.  Griffith shook his head, looking at me mournfully from his yellowish-gold eyes.

"No." he replied; then, he cocked his head. "Wait just a moment – you mean that _you're_ living up here?  I didn't even know that old Thunder-boots had left the house!  Oh fates!  Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no!  What is this world coming to?  Oh, ohhhh…"

"Good gracious _indeed_." I remarked, smiling grimly. "Actually, to tell you the strict, bland truth, I am _not_ living up here, although I believe that Master Ingor would like to think that that's the case.  I'm leaving – tonight."

Griffith squawked, and I hadn't even known that a goose could make such a noise, and stood up, flapping his wings energetically.

"Oh, take me with you!  Take me with you, take me with you, take me with you!  I've been dying to get out of here – to be free, to smell the fresh air, to feel the morning dew beneath my feet, to fly about!  I mean, _do you have any idea how limited the flying room is in here_?" 

He suddenly shouted that last, beating a cloud of dust up into the air with his wings and scattering several coins.  I ducked my head to avoid a flying ruby.

"Shh!" I said, clamping both of my hands down around his bill in hopes that that would shut the talkative, extrovert bird up so that Ingor wouldn't hear us. "I'll take you, I'll take you.  Just be quiet – Griffith, are you listening?  _Be quiet_."

Then I left him and went to give Ingor his book.  

Ingor was in the house's main room, a gigantic area with twenty-five or more feet from the floor to the ceiling, a gargantuan fireplace, and a thick, sturdy wooden table.  Ingor took the book from me and sat down in one of the chairs that were at the table, opening it and leafing through to the page that he desired.  I assumed that it was some sort of account volume that served to tell him what – or who – he had stolen that day.  I was moving towards the door that led to the kitchen when he called after me in his rough, uncouth voice, "Hey, girl!"

I couldn't help the sense of revulsion that came over me.  Giant or no giant, I wasn't going to hide the fact that I didn't _remotely_ like him.  I turned and walked back over to the table, looked up at him, and answered, "Yes, Master."

He chuckled a bit and said, "I think I'm liking you as the scullery maid, pretty-face." Then, he added, "See those boots over there in the corner by the fire?" 

I nodded. 

"Go get them."

I did so, gritting my teeth and narrowing my eyes while my back was turned, and retrieved the boots for him.  They were made of a fine, smooth, deep brown leather, and when I touched them, they suddenly shrank from the size that would have fitted a giant's foot to the size of my own feet.  I nearly dropped the boots, and Ingor saw my surprised reaction.  He laughed and reached for them, saying, "Exactly.  These are special, slave-girl – they're known as seven-league boots.  A wizard owned them, before I stole them.  Lived in Restat.  Not much when it came to security though." He chortled roughly to himself. "They shrink to fit the size of the wearer's foot and can cover as much as seven leagues across the land with each step.  You'll be in charge of keeping them oiled and ready for wearing…or it'll be dinnertime."

The remark was more like a cheap, tawdry one than anything else, and it certainly didn't frighten me.  I murmured a servile, "Yes, Master," and took the boots off to the kitchen.  And then I had a very devious idea.  

I was already stealing, so to speak, the giant's goose from him.  What was to stop me from also taking his seven-league boots?  I had no idea how far from home, and I honestly meant home, for that is what the Beast's castle was to me now, the giant had taken me, and a pair of boots that would help me travel faster would be a very great asset.  _And besides,_ I told myself, _I've got more pressing things to be concerned about than an oaf like Master Ingor._  I quickly covered the boots with a tarp.  _I'm an enchantress and I need to be back home, with my Beast._

My Beast.  

Groping behind me with one hand, searching for something – anything – to lean on, I found the edge of a chair and gripped it tensely.  _My Beast._  I _had_ just thought that: those exact words.  My every thought since I had awakened to imprisonment in the giant's house had been of returning to the Beast and to my home in his castle.  I might have seen this kidnapping as the perfect way to escape, to return to my family, or go elsewhere in the world.  And yet I wanted to go back.  I wanted to go to him.  What was my relationship to the Beast?  We were friends now…dear friends.  

His eyes…

There were things in his gaze that I felt, that I could see, and yet couldn't understand.  So many things – thoughts, feelings, memories even.  _Memories_?

"Fates, I want to go _home_."

"Well, I know, but you're going to have to be stuck with me again."

I whirled around at the sound of the voice, which came from the doorway to the courtyard, and I scarcely contained the shriek of joy that tore out of me as I flew across the room and flung myself into the Beast's arms.  I heard the door to the main hall close behind me and knew that he had, in all likeliness, closed it so that my commotion wouldn't be heard, but I didn't care.  He was _here_!

"Oh Beast, you _came_…" I murmured, and then I realized how close we were.  His arms had closed around me and we were holding each other tight.  I buried my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him – that scent which reminded me of dark, smoky evergreen and nighttime.  Behind his shirt and tunic, I could hear and feel his heartbeat: strong and reassuring and steady.  Heartbeat and breathing.  

Finally, I pulled away and looked up at him, my hair falling in a light haze over my eyes, obscuring my vision, and both of his hands came up and closed around my face, cupping it and drawing it up so that I looked directly into his eyes.  He wore something very much akin to a smile on his dragon-like face.

"Of course I came.  I'm _very_ jealous."

"Oh, let's just go _home_!" I said, stepping away and going to pick up the boots. "The giant's busy in the other room – and there's a goose in his treasure room who wants to come with us."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the passageway that led through the house towards the treasure room.  The Beast followed me, and I could only be certain of his confusion as we stepped out into the hallway.

"A goose?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. "Can this day get any _weirder_?"

I smiled wryly, hurrying down the hallway and searching for the treasure room door at the same time.  "Yes, but don't mention it again or we'll be jinxed forever.  I've already gotten myself in enough trouble with wishing for adventure!"

"You didn't have enough things to interest you with _me_?" 

The plaintive, almost hurt note in his voice distressed me and I felt an involuntary urge to comfort him.  "No – no no no!" I replied.  We found the door and I fumbled with the knob, trying to get it open.  The Beast stood to one side, waiting for me. "No, it's – it's a long story…too long for now.  Griffith, _come on_!"

I stepped into the room, my eyes roving about it, looking for the goose.  He waddled out from behind a pile of gold coins, looking calm but only just so, and then he saw the Beast.  The goose squawked again and started a frenzied beating of wings, honking and raising an entire cacophony.  

_Oh fates, he's frightened!_  

I expected Ingor to come crashing in through the door any moment, but the next movement in the room came from the Beast, who moved forward with a speed and grace that was almost unearthly, and before I had realized what was happening, he had caught the goose's wings up against his sides with one arm, lifting him up from the floor, and with his free hand, he pinned the goose's bill shut.  Griffith continued to flounder for a moment, and then he became still and the Beast edged his hand away from his bill.  

As soon as he was free to speak once more, Griffith screeched, "Or—"

The Beast clamped his hand down on the goose's bill once more and looked to me, nodding.  He seemed a bit frazzled, if that was even the word for it.

"Let's go!"

We ran down the hall: I was carrying the boots, and the Beast was still holding a suddenly very cooperative and quiet Griffith under his arm.  Within seemingly just seconds, we were out in the courtyard and dashing towards the beanstalk hedge.  The Beast helped me climb over, tossed Griffith up into the air, and then joined us on the other side.  Once we had all gained our footing, we dashed for the beanstalk that led down to the ground.  I saw, as I peered quickly over the edge, that it had been anchored in the gardens of the Beast's castle, not too far from the place where the whole escapade of my kidnapping had begun.  

"All right…" said the Beast, quietly: almost under his breath.  

He was looking back towards the giant's house.  The lights from within it sent yellow lines across the fluffy white clouds that we stood upon, but all around us, the sky and the land below was completely dark.  The moon had not yet risen, but the first stars of evening had appeared to hang in the appointed places.

"Now go."

I heard yelling coming from within Ingor's house and a curious rumbling sound started up, and I realized that the giant knew of our escape.  I threw the boots over one shoulder and started to climb down the beanstalk, watching my footing but trying to move as quickly as possible.  The Beast and Griffith were right behind me.  

After a time of climbing that felt like only a few breathless moments, we were within five feet of the ground.  I jumped down and the Beast landed beside me in a perfect, graceful crouch.  Griffith began to run around in circles, yelling, "Cut it down!  Cut it down, blast it all – _cut it down_!"

"He's right behind us," the Beast said.  I saw him make several quick movements in the darkness and heard him say a few words in faery, and then there was a shower of white-yellow sparks and I knew, without even clearly seeing it, that he had enchanted a sword, or an ax of sorts to cut down the beanstalk.  

"Duck," he told me, a moment later, grabbing my arm, and we ran for cover.  

"But I'm a _goose_, blast it!" shouted Griffith, and the Beast managed to snag the tip of the goose's wing before the beanstalk came crashing down out of the sky.  

There was a deafening crash as it fell, and a definite cry rang over it.  

We remained frozen in our places for a long time after that, and then the Beast said, hesitantly, "I think it's over now."  

Slowly, we straightened and I used my powers to light the air above our heads.  Before us, the beanstalk lay in complete ruin, and there was a large, human-shaped hole in the ground beside it.  Smoke was drifting up from within it.  

The Beast saw my puzzled look and commented, "He dissolved.  All giants do, instead of dying." Then he added, with a bit of humor in his tone, "He'll probably turn up as a gnat somewhere now.  I pity the soul whom he plagues this time around."

I laughed, somewhat shakily however, and looked up to the cloud where the giant's house had been.  It was already drifting away.

"Fates."

Beside me, the Beast stirred: squaring his great, powerful shoulders and turning his head ever so slightly so that he could look at me.  "Well, this was quite an adventure," he said.  Then, his amused demeanor faded and was replaced by something more serious, more earnest. "I was worried about you, Beauty."

My affection for him grew tenfold and I wanted to reach out and draw him into my arms again: only this time, it would be more slow and knowing, and not rushed and impulsive…  I felt myself grow warm with a blush and was glad of the darkness.

"It's over now." I said, softly. "It's over."

We then returned to the castle and were greeted by some very anxious and agitated Sprytes.  The Beast ordered a few of them off to take care of the felled beanstalk and had the others go prepare a long-delayed dinner for us.  As we separated in order for me to return to my room to change my attire and smooth over my ruffled nerves, and for him to go attend to something, I watched his retreating back, thoughts whirling through my head and choking my sense of reality.

Beast, Beast, Beast.

Who are you?

*                       *                       *

Author's note:  Who is he indeed?  Will we ever know?  (Hehe, when have I ever left you all with a really awful cliffhanger for more than…oh, say a day or two?  Then again, I have this small aversion to torches and pitchforks…)  'Kay, next chapter then!


	13. Beauty

Author's note:  The adventure comes to an end – or does it?  Read to find out!  ^_^

Disclaimer/claimer:  I don't own fairy tales, but some of the characters in this (including Griff!) are mine.  Now, enter my world and enjoy…

(Beauty's point of view, continued)

That night, I had a nightmare more terrible than any I had ever had before.  I saw myself, as a nine-year-old, in the middle of a whirling, macabre carnival: surrounded by figures in garish costumes of scarlet and gold and black, with leering faces and darting eyes.  I was looking for someone, but I couldn't find him.  The people around me began to move in closer to me, pressing about me, and I felt as if I was being choked.  I heard music – elusive, haunting, mind-shattering music – coming from all directions, and as I looked up, trying to find the ceiling above myself, I suddenly glimpsed a flash of brilliant light, moving away into darkness as it was engulfed.  Through all of the cacophony, I heard a voice calling to me: a voice that I knew and trusted, the voice of a friend…

"Beauty!  Beauty!  _Beauty_!"

Someone was standing beside me, hands on my shoulders, shaking me.  I had to wake up!  _Wake up, Arielle!  _

"_Beauty_!" insisted the voice again.

And suddenly my eyes flew open, and I was staring up at the canopy covering of my bed, and I was lying on my back, tangled bedclothes and mussed nightgown swathed about me.  With a strangled gasp, I turned my head a fraction of an inch to the side and saw the Beast.  He was hovering over me, bent far forwards over the bedside, and both of his hands were gripping my shoulders.  I suddenly felt shaky and unsteady and absolutely terrified – even more so now that I was awake than I had been during the dream – and my skin was clammy with a cold sweat.

"Beast!" I sputtered, and he abruptly sat down on the edge of the bed, forcing me to sit up, his hands sliding down from my shoulders to my elbows, and we stared at one another.  I was gasping for breath.  

Finally, when I had managed to control myself once more and contain my emotions, I asked him, in a trembling, small voice, how he had known to come.  

He looked at me for another long, scrutinizing moment, and then he replied, "I heard you screaming.  Nothing happens to you in this castle without my knowing it."

_Just like today,_ I thought, cryptically.

I remembered then, quickly, how the giant – whom I was fairly certain I had seen in my nightmare just then – had kidnapped me and the Beast had come to my rescue within mere hours of my abduction.  He really _did_ know.  I shivered and he started, seeming to have recalled something, and stood, towering above me at his seven-odd feet of height.  He pulled the covers up around me and put his gigantic hand on my shoulder once more, making me lean back against the mound of pillows that were behind me, and I saw his eyes glitter in the low light that the glowing embers in the fireplace cast into the room.  The rest of his body was cloaked in shadows, but every now and then I caught a glimpse of something smooth and white, and something else that was shiny and black.  We both listened to the sound of the heavy silence then for a moment, and I felt reassured by the greater noise of his steady, deep breathing.  

"Thank you." I whispered.

There was a quick movement up in those shadows above my head, as if he had been looking at something else, perhaps out the window or whatnot, and then had turned his face towards me again.  Then, "You're welcome." He sounded as if he was unsure of what to say.  I toyed with the coverlet in front of me, picking restlessly at the lacy fringe on the cuffs of my nightgown's full sleeves, and silence stepped in between us again.

"Beast?"

Another movement in the darkness; he had shifted position.

_Well, say it.  Speak to him._

"Could you…keep me company…for a while?" Heavens, I felt foolish! "I…don't think I'm going to be able to go back to sleep yet.  I'm sorry, it's just that…"

"Nightmares are very unsettling things, milady.  I bear witness to this." 

I saw him make a quick gesture with his claw-tipped fingers, flicking his wrist a bit, and there was a gust of air from the general area of the fireplace, and a bright, cheerful batch of flames burst into existence, and we could see each other's faces clearly.  

"I thought you might say that – and yes, I will.  Nightmares in this castle are…" He hesitated there, looking as if he was hard-pressed to find his next words, "very much _different_ than those in the world beyond.  I understand why you don't desire to go back to sleep right away."

He said these words very softly and humbly, but there was also quite a bit of matter-of-fact, knowing intelligence in them.  He knew about all of this, didn't he?

I nodded, slightly bemused by all of that, and he took a step back, offering me his hand so that I could rise.  When this had been done, he crossed the room to the door, telling me – over his shoulder as he went out – that he was going to his own room for a moment and that I should meet him in the drawing room nearest to my chambers.  I hurried into my dressing room, glad to have an excuse for being awake at this late time of night, and found my special Spryte, the one who attended me the most often, waiting for me and hovering about in the air, shifting shape rapidly in obvious concern.  

It took me a moment to dispel her worries, but I think that she was more put at ease when I told her that the Beast was going to keep me company until I was ready to return to my room.  I slipped on a sleeveless dressing gown of a massy gold-and-crimson brocade with a trailing hem, and went to the drawing room where I had been instructed to meet my one friend and master in the art of magic and enchantment.  

As I had expected, he was already there and had just finished giving a set of instructions to a Spryte who was lighting the last of the tall white candles in the room when I arrived.  I stood at the doorway for a moment, watching him, and then he turned around, his golden eyes flicking to meet mine.  

He now wore, I noticed, a robe similar to my own: with the exception that his had long sleeves that tapered out slightly at the wrists and its hem only came down to about halfway above his knees.  His other attire was a pair of form-fitting black breeches and matching boots, and a full-cut, silky white shirt that gleamed in the candlelight.  The thought struck me that he actually looked quite _handsome_, in spite of his strange face and hands.  No matter what he thought of his appearance, I saw it as really startlingly attractive.  Dazed by this, I moved to accept his hand and sat down in one of the wingback chairs that had been pulled up before the drawing room's gigantic marble-and-jade fireplace for our use.

I waited until he sat down across from me, observing his movements, and then our eyes met again.  I saw that the corners of his mouth were twitching and realized that it must be in barely contained laughter at the seriousness in my own expression.  We both burst out laughing and I turned my head to the side and down, trying to hide my deep, inflaming blush.  Finally, when we sat back, I looked at him again.

"We're going to have to stop running into these odd circumstances, milord." I told him, smiling wryly. "I really don't think that my mind can stand much more of it!"

"Oh, believe me," he replied, grinning – which exposed a great many of his long, brilliantly white teeth, "You haven't seen the _half_ of it."

"Dear lords of Dernhire!" I couldn't help my unbridled reaction to that. "First marauding giants and talking geese and oversized beanstalks – what _more_ could there be to experience?  Or will you even give me a fair warning?"

He glanced up at me, fingering the glass of wine that he held in one hand – the Sprytes had left us with a bottle of fine, dark Port and a pair of clear glass goblets, and he had just poured some for us – and I saw the sparkle of mischief in his dragon's eyes.

"I could…" he said, slyly. "And I might as well." 

He set the bottle of wine down, handing me my glass, and sat back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other, and looked thoughtful for a moment.  Then, he asked me, "Have you ever heard the tale of duck that was swallowed whole?"

I shook my head, wrinkling my nose like a confused child. 

"No."

"Otherwise known as Peter and the Wolf?"

_Now _we were in familiar territory – I had heard of the tale, but I had never actually read it or had it told to me.  

"Well then," was his reply to that, "I suppose that this is your 'fair warning'.  

_Early one morning, Peter opened the gate and went out into the big green meadow.  On a branch of a big tree sat a little bird, Peter's friend.  'All is quiet, all is quiet!' chirped the bird gaily.  Yes, all is quiet.  _

_Just then a duck came waddling 'round.  She was glad that Peter hadn't closed the gate and decided to take a nice swim in the deep pond in the meadow.  _

_Seeing the duck, the little bird flew down upon on the grass, settled next to her and shrugged his shoulders.  'What kind of bird are you if you can't fly?' said he.  To this the duck replied, 'What kind of bird are you if you can't swim?' and dived into the pond.  _

_They argued and argued, the duck swimming in the pond and the little bird hopping along the shore.  Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention.  It was a cat crawling through the grass.  The cat thought, 'The bird is busy arguing – I'll just grab him.'  Stealthily she crept towards him on her velvet paws.  _

_'Look out!' shouted Peter and the bird immediately flew up into the tree, while the duck quacked at the cat…from the _middle_ of the pond."_

I burst out laughing then, imagining the scenario of a red-breasted robin with an attitude being confronted by a hungry tabby cat, with a know-it-all albeit somewhat absent-minded mallard duck and an adventurous young boy for companions.  The Beast then continued the story, and I found myself increasingly amazed by the animation and humor with which he told it. 

_"The cat walked around the tree and thought, 'Is it worth climbing up so high? By the time I get there the bird will have flown away.'  _

_Just then Grandfather came out.  He was angry because Peter had gone in the meadow.  'It is the dangerous place!  If a _wolf_ should come out of the forest, then what would you do?' But Peter paid no attention to his grandfather's words.  Boys like Peter aren't afraid of wolves.  But Grandfather took Peter by the hand, locked the gate and led him home.  _

_No sooner had Peter gone, than a big gray wolf came out of the forest.  _

_In a twinkling the cat climbed up into the tree. The duck quacked, and in her excitement jumped out of the pond. But no matter how hard the duck tried to run, she couldn't escape the wolf!  He was getting nearer, nearer, catching up with her…!_

_Then he got her and with one gulp…swallowed her."_

When the Beast said those words, the look on his face sent me into gales of howling laughter.  I could hardly bring myself to stop so that I could breath – when he said 'swallowed her', his head dropped down so that he was looking up at me, brows lifted, and he looked like a cross between a guilty puppy and a mortuary assistant.     

_"And now, this is how things stood: the cat was sitting on one branch, the bird on another…not _too_ close to the cat.   And the wolf walked round and round the tree, looking at them with hungry eyes.  _

_In the meantime, Peter, without the slightest fear, stood behind the gate watching all that was going on.  He ran home, got a strong rope. and climbed up the high stone wall.  One of the branches of the tree around which the wolf was walking stretched out over the wall.  Grabbing hold of the branch, Peter lightly climbed over on to the tree.  Peter said to the bird: 'Fly down and circle over the wolf's head – only take care that he doesn't catch you!'  _

_The bird almost touched the wolf's head with his wings while the wolf snapped angrily at him, this side and that.  How that bird teased the wolf!  And how the wolf wanted to catch him!  But the bird was cleverer, and the wolf simply couldn't do anything about it.  Meanwhile, Peter made a lasso and, carefully letting it down…caught the wolf by the tail and pulled with all his might!  _

_Feeling himself caught, the wolf began to jump wildly, trying to get loose.  But Peter tied the other end of rope to the tree, and the wolf's jumping only made the rope round his tail tighter.  Just then the hunters came out of the woods, following the wolf's trail and shooting as they went.  But Peter, sitting in the tree, called out: 'Don't shoot!  Birdie and I have already caught the wolf.  Now help us take him to the zoo, will you?'  _

_Now just imagine the triumphant procession.  Peter at the head.  After him the hunters leading the wolf.  And, winding up the whole procession, Grandfather and the cat.  Grandfather shook his head discontentedly. _

_'Well, if Peter _hadn't_ caught the wolf?  What_ then_?' _

_Above them flew Birdie chirping merrily. _

_'My, what brave fellows we are, Peter and I!  Look what we have caught!'  _

_And if one would listen very carefully, he would hear the duck quacking inside the wolf, because the wolf, in his hurry, had swallowed her…_alive_."_

I sat back in my chair, laughing once more, until the wine glasses rang with the sound of it and I could hardly breath again.  I looked up, shaking my head and grinning like an idiot, and gazed at the vaulted ceiling above us.  The Beast sat across from me, silent, and I could tell, even without looking, that he was watching me.  

Finally, I turned back to him and said, thoughtfully, "I like it…although I think that _I_ could have come up with a much better ending.  An ending that would have been happy for everyone, including the wolf and the duck."

If he had been a human, or even faery, I would have seen his eyebrows arch up then, but even as it was, he somewhat managed the expression.

"Oh?"

I leaned forward, placing my elbows just in front of my knees, and rested my chin on my curled up hands, letting my hair slide over my shoulders and fall loosely about my face, and gazed into his face, watching his golden eyes.

"One day not long after the wolf was taken to the zoo, he was accidentally fed an omelet made with some magic mushrooms, which made him cough up the duck – which went waddling on her way, perfectly safe and sound.  Then, a faery princess happened by the zoo and the wolf was able to transform back into his real self – a handsome prince.  And they went off and lived happily ever after."

The Beast stirred, restlessly it seemed, and then he set his glass down on the table that was conveniently placed at his elbow and stood, crossing the room to the windows.  I wondered if I was upset him and remained where I was, my stomach twisting slightly.

"What princess would fall in love with an _animal_?" 

His voice was soft – very soft – but underneath the softness I could hear the barely concealed growl of a wild animal.  Soft and low, but deadly.  I looked down at my hands, tangled together in my lap, and spoke, my voice barely audible.

"It depends on the princess."

Suddenly, he whirled around and was staring at me, looking as if he had never seen me before or was just too amazed by what I had said to believe that it had been me who had said it.  Or was so angry, for some odd, hidden reason, that he was debating whether to punish my offense by killing me now or when I least expected it.

_Wait just a moment now, Arielle Laclarien,_ I told myself.  _This is the _Beast_ you're talking about.  He is your friend and fellow companion in the art of magic and enchantment, and he will_ not_ simply kill you just because he is angry at something that you said!_

Or would he?

_Just how much of a beast_ is_ he?_

"If only it were that easy." I heard him mutter, and then I looked up again, my gaze roving across the room to find him.  He was staring out the window once more, but then he turned and faced me, the faintest semblance of a smile on his noble face.

"You're tired now, aren't you?"

I had to confess that I was.

He crossed the room and held out a hand to me.  I hesitated for the briefest moment, wondering if he had simply chosen to ignore my words – whatever he had interpreted their meaning to be – or if he was still thinking them over.  He gave no indication either way.  We left the drawing room and, within seeming seconds, we had reached the doors leading into my set of chambers.  I paused by the door, looking into the shadows and blackness beyond it, and I suddenly felt possessed by reluctance to return into the world of sleep and dreams.  My nightmare still haunted me in the deepest regions of my mind, where it could stick like an irritating splinter until it drove me mad.

The Beast must have seen my so-very-obvious hesitation.

"It's all right, you know," he said, quietly.  I looked up at him, over my shoulder, and realized just how close he was standing to me.  When he spoke, his breath stirred my hair just ever so slightly.  I felt so reassured and safe with him there…

"Nothing will come to haunt you, nothing will ever harm you.  I won't let anything enter this castle that has ill intentions towards its one and only mistress."

_One and only mistress…and _you_ are the master…_

I was about to ask him something then, I don't know what, but it was clearly a ploy to keep from returning to my room, and he had decided that it was high time for me to be asleep.  "All right, that's it!" he said, and then suddenly his arms went around my legs, just behind the knees, and I shrieked just a bit as I found myself lifted clean off of my feet and swung into the air.  

The Beast grinned – rakishly, almost – at me as he stepped over the thresh hold and into the room beyond.

"It is now time for bed, milady," he informed me, as if he was a nurse who was very fed up with her young charge and had made the decision that the games were over. "You are going to go to sleep _now_, and if I have to sit on the edge of your bed all night and hold you down with both of my arms pinning your hands to the mattress, I _will_, so help me every one of the seven powers of the world."

"But what if they're on _my_ side?" I asked, plaintively, and then he deposited me, none too gracefully, out of his arms and onto one of the drawing room couches.  I hit it once and then bounced up because of the sheer spring in the padding, falling back into the pillows that were there, which scattered everywhere.  When I had cleared them off of myself, I saw him standing at the edge of the couch, observing me with an air of interest.

"I don't think anyone's made me laugh this hard in…oh, a very long time," he stated, casting me a smug look.  I threw a pillow at him, which he only just avoided by ducking to the side, although it clipped his shoulder on its way through the air.

"I don't think _I've_ had a pillow fight in a very long time."

"_Obviously_!" he retorted, retrieving the pillow from the floor and tossing it carelessly back onto the couch.  

In another moment, I had scrambled up onto my feet, and said, more seriously, as I removed my robe and looked at it thoughtfully, "You know…if I were at home right now, I wouldn't be having _near_ this much fun."

"_Fun_?" he asked, coolly, as he picked my robe, which I had thrown at him; it had found its target this time, very accurately, up off of his head and draped it over an armchair that rested nearby.  

Then he reached down and threw another pillow at me.

"Yes, _fun_." I replied, stepping deftly aside to let the pillow sail by me, brushing at my nightgown's skirts on it way to the floor. "If I were at home right now, I would only have a few more hours of sleep left to enjoy, and then it would be up before sunrise to start my chores for the day."

"You mean your _drudgery_."

I hadn't said as much, but it really went without saying.

"In fact…" I spoke freely as the thoughts came into my head, and this one transformed itself into words before I had realized what I was doing, "My life would be very much different now if I had never come here."

"How so?" he inquired, politely.

"Well, for starters…" 

I folded my arms, hugging them around myself. 

"My wonderful stepmother would probably be doing her best to marry me off to some horrible old goat."

He grinned then, flashing his teeth brilliantly.

"_I'm_ over three hundred years old."

Three hundred years!  I nearly choked in shock.  Then I laughed, half-nervously and half in protest, as I replied, "Yes, well, not that your age really _matters_, but I'm not married to you!"

He turned away, the claws on a few of his fingers moving to stroke the fine coverlet that had been placed over the back of the couch, and his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke next.  I found myself staring at his thick golden mane.

"No…you're not."

He faced me again, and I saw the soft, somewhat sad smile on his face, and knew that something was wrong.  He would never tell me what that something was, I could tell, but he wasn't hiding the fact that there was something amiss from me very well.

"Go to sleep now, Beauty.  Have no fear."

I nodded.  Conversation was over for that night.  So I sent one last smile his way, went into my room and scrambled under the covers, watching him enter the room to dim the lights.  In another moment, there was nothing to illuminate the room but the steady, pale stream of moonlight and starlight, filtering in through the window, and the line of warm, pure golden light that was streaming in from the drawing room through the door.  I kept my eyes open long enough to see his figure silhouetted in the doorway as he lingered there for a moment.

"Good night, Beast."

A pause from the tall, powerful, dark figure.

"Good night, Beauty." 

I turned over on my side, closing my eyes and feeling sleep already returning to me, and the last thing that I was consciously aware of was the sound of the door softly closing.  Sleep possessed me, and I dreamed no more.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *

Author's note:  So how about that for a little romance?  Things aren't looking quite so black now as they were, are they?  Perhaps even the Beast will soon see that not everything in the world is against them…  Until the next update then…and if you all would kindly r&r, I might be tempted to update within, oh, say, maybe a day or two…?


	14. Beast

Author's note:  Here's a chapter for all of you who have been wondering about the Beast and his background, and also for those of you who have been wanting to see a bit of romance.  Things are abruptly going to get very interesting in the next few chapters or so…

Disclaimer/claimer:  Same as usual, I'm just a fan who doesn't own fairy tales but likes to write about them in my spare time, which I've had a lot of recently (and this is the only explanation for so many updates…)

Beast:

Forgetting was never an Option

When I reached my room, I knew that I would be in for some explanations.  I stepped inside, gently closing the door behind myself, and turned towards the center of the chamber.  All inside was lit by the bright glow of a large fire roaring in the fireplace.  Griffith sat, comfortably perched – although I don't know how geese can sit in velvet wingback chairs with very much ease – in one of the two armchairs beside the fireplace, and he looked skeptical, even a bit smug, as he eyed me whilst I approached the chairs.  

"Well well well," he commented, and I was sure of the smugness in his demeanor then, "Where exactly have _you_ been keeping yourself, Master Orlando?"

That was the first time that anyone had used my true name in years.

Orlando_._

"First off, you nosey, low-down, fastidious, gossip-spreading barnyard fowl," I retorted, not bothering to keep the growl out of my tone, "I would remind you that what I do in my own castle is hardly _your_ business.  And secondly, do _not_ use that name here.  I am the Beast, and since it is likely that I shall remain so, I don't want anyone else around this place getting to know otherwise."

I sat back in my chair, shooting him a long, steady, and very superior look, and I saw his eyes snap a bit as his gray feathers ruffled with irritation.  For you see, dear reader of mine, whomever you may be, Griffith was not _truly_ a goose, but a nobleman from the faery court of the White Realm, whom I had known for sometime in the past.  How he had come to be a goose, and how he had been able to recognize me in my new form, and even how _I_ had been able to recognize _him_, I had no idea.  I think it must have had to do with his voice.  Beyond that, however…

"Well, you'd think that I'd be owed an explanation for where you ran off to this evening, seeing as how I've been your friend and faithful guardian for the past three hundred and twenty-three odd years," he replied, seeming miffed.

I chuckled grimly, low in my throat.

"Very odd years indeed." I said. "But I must admit that you _do _have a point, Griff.  I went to see to Beauty – she had a nightmare, and nightmares are generally not things to be trifled with in a place like this." I waved a hand, airily, at our surroundings. "We wound up talking for a long time after that and then she wanted me to stay with her until she fell asleep, and…"

"And…?" Griffith prodded.

"And _nothing_." I finished, pointedly.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again. 

"Well then…" he said. "Whatever makes your day.  How did she get here anyway, and if you're obviously getting to be so friendly with her, why don't you just come out and tell me that you're in love with her?"

In love with her?  Me?  With Beauty?  Ha!  Something like that could never be possible.  Being a _friend_ to her was hard enough.  Thinking of the difference between us – the fact that she was a beauty and I was a beast – was enough to annoy me to perfection.  And Griffith just _had_ to bring that up.

"Look _you_," I sat forward in my chair, becoming irritated in my own turn at his attitude, "_You're_ not helping with anything here.  I didn't necessarily need someone from my past turning up right at this point in my life – or _at all_, for that matter, and this business of having you here is going to turn out to be fairly blasted inconvenient for all of us, especially _me_." 

I narrowed my eyes and then told him, "It's a long story.  Her father…owed me payment for something, and so I told him to have his daughter, Beauty, come to live at my castle with me.  She's half-faery and I've been teaching her the art of magic and enchantment, and I hope that's a good enough explanation for you.  And besides, how did _you_ get to be a goose in the first place, and why were you up on that cloud in that great oaf's house?"

"The same way as you came here," was his answer.

"Explain."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, as if the story was almost too obnoxious and long to bother with telling.  But I wasn't about to let him off.

"All right then.  When that creepy old wizard – Saroush, Sarahall, Standahar…"

"Saruptal." I supplied.  I folded my hands, weaving the fingers together, and felt an animal sense of resentment and anger riffle through me upon saying the name of my worst enemy.  Griffith nodded, recognizing the name.

"Saruptal – yes.  When he came back from chasing after the thief who stole the Book of Hours that night, I was at the palace and I overheard some of what he told the Lord and Lady.  He described the thief to them, and it was obvious that it was _you_ that he had caught, but then he told them that the Book was gone.  He had taken care of the thief, but the Book had disappeared.  Anyway, I knew that you couldn't have done such a thing, and so I checked up on the old boy and found some very odd things – like secret, underhanded studies, esoteric manuscripts, and the general evidences of a White Realm wizard gone bad." He bowed his head. "I got caught."

"Bling bang, ah-la-magnificent, you've shape-shifted."

He nodded.

"Yes, something like that.  And then when I was out looking practically all over the entire Known World for you, Ingor happened by and the rest is obvious from there."

Suddenly I thought of something that I had heard in the story, and sat forward, my hands moving to grip the arms of my chair tensely, my ears pricking up.

"Wait – the Book _disappeared_?"

Another nod.

"And…"

"It hasn't been seen since."

Oh, this was too much.

I stood and crossed the room, beginning to pace.  Thoughts were flooding into my head: thoughts that were suddenly making things much clearer.  So my dream was true – Saruptal _had_ turned evil, and he _was_ plotting against the White Realm and all of its inhabitants.  And he had the Book of Hours.

Then I remembered Griffith.  I cast a glance at him over my shoulder, wary of what I let him see in my reaction to his words.  If he knew that I was planning something impetuous, which he would consider reckless, he would never let me go through with my scheme.  That was just how the goose, or Griffith, inherently was – he was the best of friends and a very good companion, which meant that he was hardly going to let me simply throw myself into something that could easily get myself, if not the both of us, killed in a rather messy way.

Those qualities were almost faults, given our current situation.

I decided to take another course.

"So…Griff…" I said, in a musing tone. "How is _your_ spell undone?"

He rolled his eyes again and shrugged his wings in a vague semblance of what would have been a helpless, exasperated gesture.

"Only by Saruptal's death.  Guess what the odds are of _that_ happening."

There was some logic in that.

"Griff."

He looked at me.

"I can get us both out of this if I got the chance."

With a flurry of beating wings and quite a good deal of squawking, the goose flew up out of the chair and was shrieking at me, "You've gone mad!  You really have!  I mean, I always knew that you were just _slightly_ off before, but now _this_?  You're mad!  Mad, mad, mad, mad, _MAD_!"

I sat back to watch the show and wait until he calmed himself.

"I can't say I'm sure about you, Griff, but I am seriously sick and tired of this body.  I'd much rather have my own again –_ much_ rather."

"Who _wouldn't_, when he was faced with a situation like the one we're both in now?" Griffith retorted. "But what you're proposing – or what I _think_ you're proposing, rather – is simply insanity.  We've already seen what this crazy wizard can do, and I really would rather not wind up in the body of some even lower form of life than a 'barnyard fowl', as you so poetically termed me before.  I _tried_ finding the Book.  It's not in the White Realm anywhere, which means that he's got it somewhere—"

"For us to find if we could figure out where to look."

"And supposing we did, what _then_?  He'd catch us, and then everything would be ten times worse for us."

"I think I've already hit rock bottom." I remarked, coolly.

"So you're prepared to go out and find him and try to take the Book back, which would – I must say – win back your innocence in the whole matter…but at the possible cost of running into that braincase and whatever he's got planned for you?"

"Oh, well…he's already looking for me." I revealed, calmly. "He's turned against the White Realm, which is something that we both know, and he has the Book, and the only person who knows about that, or the only _two_ people now, I suppose, are the both of us.  He will most _definitely_ be looking for us."

"And that's why you want to go out and find him?"

I shrugged again.

"If it's the only way."

Then, I stood and walked over to the window.  The gardens, bathed in the glow of the moon's light, stretched out before me in every which direction, seeming to go on for an endless eternity.  I whirled around then to face my old friend again.

"I _want_ my life back."

Griffith returned my gaze, steadily, for a long moment, and I realized that there was a sort of knowing gleam in his eyes.  _Oh fates._

"Well then…let's say, hypothetically, that this plan of yours to find where our old friend is and somehow retrieve the Book could actually work – and I'll help you.  If…"

"If _what_?" I growled.  I didn't like where this was heading.

"Are you in love with her?"

I hadn't been prepared for _this_.  

Taken aback, I sputtered, "In love – with whom?  _Her_?" 

I shook my head, vehemently, even though I somehow knew, in the back of my mind, that it wouldn't convince Griffith. 

"No.  No no no no no.  I…she…well – it's…just not like that between us.  I mean…look at me, Griff.  I'm not exactly the old charmer that I used to be.  I've had some changes in myself, and more than on the _outside_.  I'm half-dragon and half-man now, and sometimes having the body of an animal gives me the mind of one as well.  And…she hardly knows me.  She came here only a few months ago and although she's proved to me that she doesn't see me as some sort of warped monster and that she doesn't fear me, and although everything seems much better now than it was before…" 

I shook my head, turning away from him, and stared mournfully out the window at the gardens.  The perpetual veneer of snow and ice shone back at me, stark and cold and white: unforgiving and yet terribly beautiful.  

"It just can't be like that between us." 

Griffith was silent, and that silence prodded me to go on.

"The fact is…I don't _know_ if I'm in love with her.  She is the most incredible creature that I've ever met – she's kind, and gracious, and sweet-tempered, caring and devoted and understanding as no woman has been to me before.  And that's not even a beginning to it.  She has so many amazing qualities…and she's beautiful.  Fates, Griff, she is _so_ beautiful!  I want to fall down on my face and worship her like a goddess every time that I see her.  Everything about her…_mesmerizes_ me."

"And you think that you're _not_ in love with her?"

"Blast it all, Griffith!" 

I whirled around from the window. 

"I've never been in love before – I don't know what it feels like, so how would I be able to tell?  I've heard it said over and over before that love is something that you simply know, whether you've read its definition in a dictionary or whatnot or experienced, but _I don't know_."

"Then find out.  You two are alone here in this castle, and you certainly need a woman like her – she is a princess, from what you tell me."

"A princess.  A true princess: a princess at heart."

I murmured the words to the windowpanes, staring out ahead of myself with a suddenly very bleak but thoughtful gaze.  What Griffith said was true.

Something had arisen in my heart that night, when I had looked upon Beauty as we talked.  I had felt the same feeling on another morning – a much more fateful morning – when her father had first said her name to me: Arielle Honorine Bellissima Rose.  I had felt it when I had first seen her.  I was beginning to feel it more and more often, pulsating in my heart more furiously with each second that passed me by.  But was it love?

I didn't know.

"What do you propose?" I whispered, caught up in my thoughts.

Griffith's eyes were squarely on me, I sensed.

"Invite her to have dinner with you one night – in the grandest dining room that you've got here in this immense cavern of a castle that you call home, and have her wear some gown that will absolutely floor you at first sight, and then show her just how charming you can be in the ballroom.  Sweep her off her feet, dance with her."

I could already picture the scenario, and the idealistic, perfect romance of it all was overwhelming.  But Griffith was being ridiculous.  Beauty would never fall in love with me.  She had already stated quite clearly that I was her best friend in the world…did I want to change that?  Could such a thing actually happen?

_Was_ I in love with her?

"Griffith, now _you_ are the one who is mad.  Love is something that I _will not_ demand of Beauty, and you must not expect it of me either.  I will do this only to be kind to her – for I think that she would enjoy a night of dancing and grandeur," Oh, would she!  It almost stopped my heartbeat when I imagined her in a swirling ball gown that shimmered like the mist on the sea.  "And because _you_ won't help me otherwise if I _don't_ go through with your insane plan."

_But she is _not_ in love with me, and I will just have to learn to accept that._

Or could I?

*                       *                       *

So, in order to appease Griffith and attempt to give Beauty something that she would find pleasure in, I rallied all of my strengths of will and made my way to her rooms, several days later.  I knocked on the door, hesitantly.  It was early in the afternoon, just after midday, and I knew that it was normally Beauty's custom to return to her room and change her gown, and then remain there for some time to herself.  

The door opened and I felt a thrill of nervousness run up my back.  I could hardly keep myself from standing there and gaping at her, stammering because I was too flummoxed by her loveliness to say anything coherent or even behave normally.

"Good afternoon, Beast," she said, and her smile was so sweet and so genuine and so totally disarming that I felt all of my apprehension ease away.

"Good afternoon, Beauty." I replied, saying the greeting gravely. "I have come, milady," I continued, with a purposefully gallant and courtly flourish of my arm and a deep bow, "To invite you to a masque ball, to be held in the grand ballroom of this castle on this very night.  As there is only your acceptance or refusal to be had, I hazarded the journey here to learn of it from you."

Her smile became a sparkling grin and she stood back, swinging the door open wide.  "Please, do come in, milord," she said. "Since you have been so courageous as to come all of this way to seek a yea or nay from my lips, _I_ will also oblige _you_." She gestured for me to enter, and – after a moment's hesitation – I did so.

We walked into the main chamber of her rooms, which stood before her bedroom and dressing room and other quarters, and I turned to face her, smiling apologetically.  

"Actually, this was all Griff's idea," I confessed, feeling embarrassed. "He told me that I ought to ask you if you would like to spend an evening of dancing and entertainment in the ballroom…I simply carried out the action of asking you."

To my amazement, she didn't become angry or whirl around and stomp out of the room – which would have been the reaction of many other ladies that I had known.

She laughed: lightly, gaily.

"He's trying to play matchmaker now, is he?"

I started, taken off guard.  She _knew_!

"Well, y-es." I stammered. "How did you—"

"Because the Sprytes have been doing the exact same thing to me!  Oh Beast," she said; suddenly, she was stepping forward, towards me, and then her arms had gone around my neck and she was gazing, merrily, up into my eyes. "I am _so_ sorry that they've put you – _us_ – though this.  Don't tell me that he's been after you to dress up and treat me like some china doll for the last week and a half as well?"

I blinked.  Would she ever cease to amaze me?

"Actually…yes, he has." 

She then released me and walked back across the room, her ample, flowing skirts trailing after her, whispering about her slim, lithe figure, leaving me to stare, like a love-starved schoolboy, after her retreating back. 

"Your Sprytes have been…er…dropping hints then, I take it?"

She nodded, eyes intent on a book or something that was on top of the table that sat beside the chair that she stood just a little ways from.

"More like shoveling them out and pitching them onto me, I should think."

I raised my hands to my head and dragged them through my mane, feeling exasperated and, more importantly, completely helpless to keep anyone – including Griffith and the Sprytes, who had somehow also gotten in on the matchmaking action – from either driving me and Beauty straight into one another's arms, or running in opposite directions, shrieking about the incredible difficulties of life.

"Arrrrrgh.  Of the most impossible things, why—"

It was humiliating, above everything else.  They were all trying to make – to force – Beauty and me to fall in love with one another.  I didn't know how she felt about the whole situation, but I _did_ know that we were both being pushed and pulled into this, and…I was beginning to surrender, at the end of it all.

"Beauty."

She looked up at me, and our eyes met, steady and careful, from across the room.

"If Griff and the Sprytes are making you feel uncomfortable with all of their scheming, simply say the word.  I don't necessarily need to have a myriad of servants around to take care of the castle – I can do that _easily_ myself.  And Griff…well, he's just another old friend of sorts, although I don't know how I ever picked _him_ up." 

_Don't lie!_ I reminded myself, sternly. 

"And…I couldn't bear the thought of your being unhappy, Beauty." I looked her straight in the eyes, earnestly and searchingly.  "If I could do anything to make your life here less like an imprisonment and more like a home…"

"This _is_ my home, Beast!" she said, warmly, "And you are my dearest friend.  No matter what Griffith and the Sprytes try to do, nothing will _ever_ change that.  I am happier here, with you, than I could have ever hoped to be.  And for that, I thank you." 

And then, wonders, she stepped close to me, went up on her tiptoes, and kissed me gently on the cheek.  I stared at her, amazed.

"Now, we have a ball to prepare ourselves for tonight, milord," she said, cocking her head and smiling playfully. "I will see you in the ballroom at dinner."

"I will count the hours, milady."

I made my exit and stood outside of the doorway, bowing to her as I said those words, and then she smiled at me one last time, and closed the door.  And then I walked away, down the long marble corridor, feeling not just _slightly_ dizzy with pleasure.

*                       *                       *

Readying the ballroom for an actual event was another type of experience entirely.  The Sprytes were generally quite adept at choosing and arranging whatever decorations that they were called upon to do, but tonight I wanted something immensely special – something that would make Beauty stare at her surroundings and remember them forever afterwards.  Griffith was my companion during the preparations for the night, but I had to say that he wasn't very much of help at all.

"_No_!  No no no _NO_!  Please, don't let's _all_ be idiots at once!" 

I railed this at a trio of the floating orbs of shape-shifting light as they failed for the fifth time in a row to properly hang a bower of shimmering, opal-like fabric and dark red roses, so dark that they were nearly black – or at least those were the colours that I had told them to use – from the towering marble pillars that surrounded the ballroom. 

"No!  You've got to angle it first and _then_ attach it – moving it after you've got it up will send it crashing down on top of our heads and _I am not in the blasted mood for that_!  Now, take it down and try putting it up again or I'll call in some more of your comrades to see if _they_ can carry out instructions properly!"

I turned away, greatly annoyed by everything in general, and then one of the Sprytes snickered, impishly, behind my back to one of its companions, "Powers – stress and love are a deadly combination!"

"_That's it_!" I roared, rounding on them and stalking towards the pillar. "_Out_, all of you – out and go spend your mischief elsewhere or I won't be the master of magic and enchantment anymore but the master of a thousand heaps of stinking, lifeless Sprytes who tried my patience just one too many times!"

I almost literally chased them out the door and then turned to Griffith, eyes narrowed and muscles tensed.

"This is all _your_ fault, you know." I reprimanded him. "My life is an absolute mess, and I've just yelled at some of my best servants for the first time in my life, and it's all because _you_ insisted on carrying through with your stupid little plot!"

"Well, you _could_ try de-stressing for once," he commented, preening at his smoky-gray feathers calmly. "Have you ever tried lemongrass and chamomile tea?  It does wonders for an aggravated mind – and lavender sachets in one's pillow can also help, although I always found the scent a bit too strong, personally…"

"Oh Griff, will you just _shut up_?"

I threw my hands up in the air, at a loss of how to deal with both a cocky bunch of Geckos _and_ a know-it-all goose that was really a faery lord under a spell.

"Look now, I need some sort of help.  I still have to make sure that they have her favorite dessert done properly," which was, I had learned, blackberry torte, "And I also need to…well, somehow make myself look better than _this_!" I picked at my current shirt and tunic, which were a dull, smooth gray. "Can you leave aside gloating at me for five seconds and do something to make some of this better?"

"Certainly," he answered, leaving his place on the floor beside me to fly up and perch on one of the banisters of the balcony that overlooked the immense ballroom. "By all means – go and ready yourself for the evening's festivities.  I will make sure that your lady love is entirely awed by this masque spectacle."

I looked up at him, eyeing him carefully.

"Just be sure that it is to her liking, and not flamboyant like _you_."

Then I turned and left the room, murmuring to myself as I went out, "And the entire worst part of it is, the planned result of this scheme of yours is beginning to seem like it has been present all along…at least on my side of things."

I wasn't certain of it yet, but something _had_ changed…

*                       *                       *


	15. Beast

Author's note:  *sigh*

Disclaimer/claimer:  I don't own fairy tales, I just write about them.  Faery tales and faeries, however, I _do_ own.

_Many thousand lights shone upon her, and she was so beautiful that everyone there was amazed…_

Suddenly then, almost before I had realized it, evening had come and it was time for me to go meet Beauty at her room and escort her to the ballroom where, as planned by the scheming minds of Griffith and the Sprytes, we would have our first ever dance together.  

Needless to say, I was very nervous – uneasy and self-conscious as any boy who had never been with a young woman before in such a setting, although I had been to many more balls and other formal functions than I cared to count, previous to the curse.  The thought of spending such an intimate and dare I say borderline _romantic_ time with such a lovely creature whose outer value was only overshadowed by her inner goodness of spirit cowed me in the greatest of ways.

But there was more to it than just that.

For one night, I wanted to show her what I could be: not simply what I was, but something else entirely.  Changing would take quite a bit of my powers and involve very much of my entire magic-wielding abilities, and the transformation back to my beastly self would be excruciatingly painful…but I was willing to do it.

For her.

It would be my disguise.  After all, it was a masque ball, and we were both skilled in the art of magic and enchantment.  I simply found myself hoping that she wouldn't despise me as the Beast when she had seen me as who I had been.

Of course, none of that could really change how I acted towards her, and what I would do that evening.  I would be the Beast under disguise, wearing a mask – an illusion of a different face and form – until midnight, when all of the clocks around the castle struck twelve times.  Then I would be myself again, and nothing more.  Nothing would change because of this.  Nothing at all.

Or so I thought.

I didn't dare allow myself to look at my face in the mirror once I had made the change back to my former self.  If I saw the person that a reflection would show me, looking at myself as the Beast again would be much worse.  So I dressed for the evening, finding myself startled by the agility and gentleness of normal hands and the ability to see colours again.  In three hundred years, I had missed out on all of this.  And, I swore to myself, solemnly, I would enjoy what time I had to experience being myself again and not consider anything else.  Tonight, I was Orlando, enchanter and prince from the White Realm, and I was to be with Beauty, and everything would be perfect.

In this frame of mind, I made my way to her rooms and lightly tapped on the door there.  A moment later, I heard footsteps nearing and then the door swung open slightly, showing me that her special Spryte – whom I had specifically chosen to be her personal servant, above all the others – had come to answer it for her mistress.  She started a bit, little flecks of light flying off of her into the air, and I barely suppressed an amused smile.  What would Beauty's reaction be when she saw me like this: more faery than anything, even _if_ most of my face was covered by a black harlequin mask?          

"Good evening – don't worry, Elenette, it's me."

The Spryte whizzed forward and circled me, seeming as if she was trying to decide whether she was seeing a ghost or not, and I shifted my weight a bit.  I _really_ wanted to see Beauty!

"Sir?"

I flashed her a rakish grin.

"Not quite what you were expecting, eh?  But you called for a masque ball, and so I have come, complete with my costume." 

Here I gestured, with a grand flourish, to my attire: a royal blue velvet tunic and breeches with a white shirt, accented by bold black, white, and gold patterns and trim flung – symmetrically – all about it, a pair of black boots, a cavalier's sword, and a ridiculously romantic, large hat with a plumed black feather pinned onto it.  I planned to remove that part of my costume and wear it as little as possible that evening, but it had been Griffith's suggestion, as had been the harlequin theme.

"Is the Lady Beauty ready?" I then inquired. "I await upon her will."

"She's almost ready, but this preposterous tulle mire is _hardly_ keeping her wits from flying off like a flock of wild blackbirds!" came a only somewhat amused and mostly aggravated young girl's voice from inside of the room.  I heard quite a bit of rustling and then a thud, and Elenette's glow intensified.

"_Milady_!"

"Elenette – oh, ow, _help me_!"

Then I heard her break into peals of laughter.  I raised a gloved hand to my mouth, trying to hide the twitching of its corners and muffle my own chuckles, and a few moments later, Elenette reappeared at the door, a frazzled air about her.  I stood at attention, putting on my best, or at least so I hoped, poker face.

"Mistress Arielle will be with you shortly, milord," she informed me.  And then as she turned away to attend to the lady herself, she added, confidentially, "Best to prepare yourself, Master.  The sight of her'll knock you off of your feet."

"Will I be blinded?" I asked, murmuring lightly.  

Since it was apparent that I would be waiting for a minute or two, I went down to the end of the corridor, which wasn't terribly far from Beauty's rooms, and tried to occupy myself with looking out the window that was there, at the stars that shone brightly and optimistically in the black night sky and the gardens that shimmered beneath them, instead of thinking about Beauty.  

It would only drive me mad.

Behind me then, I heard a door click softly shut on its hinges, and there was a distant, whispering rustle of many stiff tulle petticoats and thick satin.  I slowly turned from the window, inhaling gradually, preparing myself.  This was it.

"Good evening, milord."

I turned around the rest of the way, and we saw each other.

There couldn't have been a more perfect arrangement – I was shocked into immobility upon seeing her, and she looked as if…well, as if she had never seen me before.  As she hadn't.  I took a hesitant, small step towards her, trying not to frighten her, almost as I had that first night when we had met, and reached out a hand.  

"Beauty…" I said, gently. "It's me."

She stared at me, seeming to recognize my voice but unsure of whether it was truly me or not.  "Beast…" she said. "How did you…"

"It's magic." I told her.  I stepped the rest of the way across the distance between us, until we were almost touching, and held out my hand to her, palm up: a gesture of peace, and of trust, if she would accept it. "It's a masque ball, Beauty…I wanted to…" Well, _could_ I tell her what I had wanted?  Why I had done this? "It'll go away at midnight."  Please, _at least_ consent to believe _that_!

She nodded then, slowly, and I felt immensely relieved.

"It's still you."

She stepped forward, looking up into my eyes, as her own brilliant, azure blue – heavenly blue! – eyes gazed upon my face, upon me, searchingly.  Could she still see me, in this new form?  It made me wonder…

What would she think if I ever became myself again?

Then she smiled, and my heart fluttered like the wings of a captive bird against its cage, pounding in a plea to be released.

"I am eager to attend this mask ball, milord," she told me. "It is a great honour to be part of such a privilege."

_A privilege!_

"Then shall we go down now?"

I turned halfway and offered my arm to her, flashing another brilliant grin at her.  Oh, it was _so_ different to smile with real lips and teeth, instead of fangs and the broad maw of a dragon!  I would never again complain about the forming of the human – or faery – body again, if I ever broke the spell that held me!

Arielle smiled as well, and I was stunned by the gorgeous, dazzling beauty of her face as it lit with the expression.

"We shall," she said, and so we did.

The ballroom looked spectacular, in spite of all of the trouble that I had gone through in order to have it prepared exactly to my orders.  Everywhere, swaths of gleaming white fabric and velvety, nearly black red roses hung; the air was scented by the perfume of the thousands of flowers, glowing with the light of countless white candles.  

I couldn't have imagined it as being any more flawless.  

We descended the grand staircase that fronted the ballroom together and made our way out onto the center of the glossy marble floor, and I never took my eyes off of her.  She looked like a queen in her fantastic ball gown, which was of an all-white material that seemed to shift in colour, sparkling like a diamond, whenever she moved: studded with gems and ribbons and roses and lace and embroidery.  The lace that framed her shoulders and the bodice of her gown made her look like a graceful swan, pure white and graceful, more lovely than words can tell.  On her head, a delicate filigree crown of gold, pearls, and diamonds gleamed and sparkled amidst the mounds of her pale hair.  

She was a sublime, untouchable queen: an ice princess, a doll made of a glass so delicate that it would easily break with the slightest carelessness of touch, swathed in lace and tulle, white as snow and pure as daylight atop an undiscovered mountain.

I bowed, moving slightly away from her so that only our hands now touched, and said, "Milady, would you give me the honour…"

She blushed a heavenly shade of rose and replied, speaking softly, "I have never danced before, milord.  When I was younger, my father used to take out a music box of mine and let it play its song, and then he would have me stand on the tips of his boots and he would waltz with me, but I have never danced with anyone else…"

_Anyone else such as a young man?  A cavalier?  A lord?  Or a beast?_

I cleared that thought off, smiling at her, and replied, "And _I_ have not danced in almost over three hundred years, dear lady.  It is not in the knowledge of _how_ to dance that one does so…it is something that comes through the mere passion of it all."

Beckoning for her to come closer to me, I then said, "Come now.  It is only just us, only we two – you, and me.  There is nothing to fear."

_Nothing to fear but my own heart._

Gently, carefully, I gathered her into my arms, as if she was a timid, fragile butterfly.  I took her hand and placed it on my right shoulder, demonstrating the waltz pose, and then I hesitantly slid the arm of that shoulder around her waist.  It was so tiny – _she_ was so tiny!  Banishing my amazement, I then took her other hand in mine, raising it so that our arms were on level with one another, stretched out to the side, and she gathered her voluminous skirts into that hand, keeping them carefully out of the way of her feet.  I smiled into her eyes, and she mirrored the expression.

The music began, tentatively and elusively, fleeting and elegant as the first pattering of raindrops on a glass windowpane.  The Sprytes were surpassingly talented at this.  Then a waltz rhythm ebbed into being, and I started to move to it.  Beauty seemed uncertain and almost afraid, unsure of what to do, and I told her, soothingly and softly, "It's all right.  Just follow me – let me lead.  It's all right…"

And we were off, dancing slowly and cautiously at first, and then as the music went on, she seemed to grow in confidence, and soon we were whirling about in breathless, swooping circles and turns, twirling and being led by the music.

One two three, one two three, one two three…

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.

How many hours until my time was up?  An eternity.

*                       *                       *

I could have gone on dancing with her forever, but soon – seemingly seconds after we had first begun – Elenette and my own personal servant Spryte, Raethyr, had appeared to announce that dinner was served.  Laughing and out of breath, I escorted her into the dining room and seated her in the tall, throne-like chair that stood at the head of the table.  Then, I looked to the side of that chair, and to my surprise, I found another place laid out, only a scant few feet away.  I had been expecting to have my seat far down the table, at its end, but this was a welcome change.  

Beauty marveled at the food that was before us, and I myself was impressed by the regalia that the Sprytes had managed to come up with.  

Gold, silver, ivory, and china was scattered all about the silken and brocade tablecloth, with crystal goblets and plate chargers of jade and ruby.  I counted at least four different kinds of forks…

_And oh fates, I hope that I can recall which one is for what course!_

I seated myself, flinging my disregarded hat across the top of my chair, but I did not remove my mask.  I prayed that she would understand…or simply ignore it.  She had also worn a small, graceful mask: white, studded with gems and a-flutter with satin ribbons and plumed feathers, but it had a rod with which to hold it, whereas my mask had nothing but ties to secure it around my head.  I gazed at her as the Sprytes brought out our dinner, unable to look away.  

Finally, I said, "Your first ball…could you have imagined it as being like this – in a castle with talking flecks of light for servants and a beast with the powers of an enchanter as your companion and master in your learning of the faery skills?  I find it odd myself."

"Odd?  Hardly!" she replied, watching a Spryte pour her first glass of wine for her. "No…I like it."

"I am flattered." I said, almost dryly.

Over dinner, we turned to other subjects, ranging from literature and world travel, to politics and moral issues, to music and science and different types of flowers, to the silliness of some fashions – past and present – and a host of other things.  Our conversation was so easy, so warm and interesting, that I wondered how horrible her stepmother and stepsister had been to have _not_ realized just what an incredible, beautiful spirit that she truly had!  Here was an intelligent, independent, freethinking young woman who knew how to comport herself properly and yet refused to be treated as mere chattel.  She completely awed me.  I found myself thinking that she might make a very worthwhile counselor for my mother's brother-at-law, Orandor: ruler of all the faeries.  I wished that I could have told her that…but such a thing was impossible.

Finally, when we had finished, we left the dining room and sallied forth on a stroll through the palace.  There was one particular segment of it that I wished for her to see on this night, lit by the full moon and her children, the stars.  

We came out onto the terrace that overlooked much of the castle's lands and most of the castle itself, and soon our conversation died away into blissful nothingness as we surveyed the fantastic view.  

At length, she stirred and made a sudden comment, thoughtfully.

"Stars.  Papa always told me that something my mother had said to him very many times, when she was alive…was that stars weren't really _just_ stars at all – lights in the sky to guide weary travelers and sea-faring voyagers, and their captains and sailors…  They're _dreams_…dreams come true…and I remember that, when I was little, I always wanted for _my_ dreams to be up there, in the sky, someday."

"What do you dream about, Beauty?" I asked her, staring quite unabashedly at her lovely, gentle profile.  The corners of her mouth turned up a bit in the soft semblance of a little, almost wistful smile, and she murmured her reply. 

"Lots of things.  I'd like to see the world again…and to learn more about magic and enchantment…but most of all…most of all…" 

She trailed off and I moved closer to her, desirous to hear what she dreamed most passionately about and also somehow drawn to her side.

"I dream most of all about finding my husband – my prince…" Here her smile turned a bit rueful, as if she knew that she would never find an actual prince and become his wife.  _Oh Beauty, you don't know…_ "And then raise five absolutely beautiful children with him and live…happily ever after."

I wanted that too.  Oh how I wanted it.

She turned to me, and I discovered that we were standing so close to one another that her hair, stirred by the gentle night breeze, drifted against my face.  Her eyes, darkened by the reflection of the sky and all of its shadows, had stars in them: bright, sparkling, incredibly beautiful stars.

"Arielle…" Her real name seemed foreign to my tongue: I was so used to calling her Beauty.  I looked down, averting my eyes from hers, and shook my head, smiling ruefully. "You're so beautiful.  I wish that I could be beautiful too…for you."

"But you are – you are, and you always _have been_!" she told me.  My heart sent a rush of warm, overwhelming emotion through my entire being, and I felt as if every part of me was crying out to be loved, to know affection, and to be devoted to her, and to her alone.  I lowered my head towards her, lips trembling and eyes blurred by tears, yet again, and whispered her name.  

"Arielle…"

"Oh my Beast…" she whispered back, and then my arms went around her waist, bringing her up and closer to me, and I was holding on to her, desperately, passionately, as if I was drowning and she was the only thing that could save me.  Her arms were around my neck, crushing me to her with her sweet, unhesitating strength.  

"Beauty…" I murmured, hoarsely, overcome by emotion.  "May I…" I trailed off, trying to find my breath, my conscious side, amidst the pounding of my heart.  Somewhere, off in the distance, a garden clock began to chime.

_One, two, three, four…_

"Would you give me permission…to kiss you?"

She breathed in.

_Five, six…_

"Beast."

_Seven, eight, nine—_

_Oh, I don't care, blast it all!  I'm kissing her!  What is there in the world for me to care about anymore, at this moment?  I am kissing _her_!_

Finally, I broke the kiss, but still held her, resting my forehead against hers.  Cold chills of anticipation at the agonizing transformation back to being the Beast again ran through me, met by the flushed warmth of her silky skin.  

"Beauty…" I whispered. "Thank you so much, but I…"

"I know," she answered.  Her eyes were closed. "But this was…"

"The night of all nights." I finished for her. "_I_ know."

_And neither of us will ever forget it._

I stepped away, but I couldn't bring myself to releasing her hand.  She still held on to me.  We could not be parted from one another, not even by this.

_Ten, eleven._

_Twelve._

Forgetting was never an option. 

_And that night, I realized the truth that I had long withheld from myself—_

_I was in love with her._

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

_…the clock struck twelve.___


	16. Beauty

Author's note:  Now, after the masque ball, things begin to change – but are they for better or for worse?  Read on if you wish to decide…  (And r&r if you don't mind!  ^_^ )

Beauty:

On the Education of a Thief

_"Well," said she to herself, "I see they will not let my time hang heavy upon my hands…"_

What were dreams after that night?  It seemed as if nothing in my life could have surpassed the events of that evening – in fact, I don't think that anything really _could_.  I had had my first dance, a waltz…and I had been given my first kiss.

And what a kiss it was.

Reality desired me to realize that something like that could not truly happen to a child of my age and class, a seventeen-year-old girl with not a penny to her name: only the generosity and friendship of a very kind and wonderful entity to thank for her current prosperity.  And for her first _real_ kiss.  Nelisia had always told me that I wasn't the kind of girl who would ever experience a passionate embrace.  No, I was a poor little pauper, and if I was to ever be kissed, it would either come from my husband, another poor little pauper like myself: some country farmer with no expectations in his life other than to raise the next year's potato crop, or from some rich old geezer who was fool enough to accept me as his bride.

But I had been kissed, and passionately and truly at that.  

It hadn't been just a small, hesitant brush of the lips; no, it was a full-fledged, passionate embrace of the lips.  I hadn't known anything about what I was to do in such a situation, how I was to react when kissed…but he had made it unnecessary for me to think about that, just as he had when we had danced together.  He showed me.  And when it was time for him to resume his usual form, _I_ had shown _him_ something else entirely – my ability to accept him, as he was, no matter what form he happened to inhabit.  

At least so I hoped.  

Oh, but the beauty of his human – or faery, since he was so fair to look upon then? – form still dwelt in my dreams at night.  I would always cherish my Beast for who he was, no matter what he looked like, but it seemed to me that the appearance of his other self on that night had been a reflection of the inner beauty of his heart, soul, and mind.  I would never forget that beauty.  Tall, slender, and well formed, with gentle, artistic hands and somehow devastatingly romantic wrists, graceful and strong arms, a proud neck and carriage – who could have forgotten?  

And his face…his face…  

I hadn't been able to see much of it because he had kept the harlequin mask that accompanied his costume on for the entire duration of the evening, but even so, that mask did not quite _completely_ hide his face from my view.  He had had thick, warm golden-brown hair that seemed to glow in the soft candlelight: it wasn't all the way straight hair, but a mix of wavy and curly and straight instead.  His skin reminded me of both snow and gold, and his features were youthful, intelligent, chiseled, and smooth, with pensive, sensuous lips, a firm chin, and dazzlingly white, straight teeth …and the most beautiful eyes that I had ever seen in my life.  They were a startling, vivid blue: bluer than forget-me-nots, bluer than the calm sea after a storm, bluer than the sky after the raging of the gray winter months, bluer than imagination, fringed with long, ample golden eyelashes.  They were the kind of eyes that saw straight into my soul itself.

And yet when I looked at him, into those eyes that stared out at me from behind the black velvet mask that he wore, I saw my Beast there.

We didn't speak of the kiss after that evening, nor did our behavior towards one another greatly alter in the days that followed it.  I tried to tell myself that it was something that we only would have done once, as a zenith to the peerless wonder of the evening that we had spent together, dancing and laughing the night away in each other's arms.  That it was something that he had asked me to do only because it was on the whim of a moment.  That it didn't have to mean anything.  But my thought, more and more, became…  _It_did_ mean something._

_It always will._

Several days after that episode, I went on a mid-morning journey through the castle to find the Beast's rooms, hoping that he would be somewhere in them.  I had been working, with Elenette: my Spryte, on deciphering a runic-encoded recipe in an ancient cookbook that the Beast and I had discovered in the library.  Now, however, that was over with and I wanted to see my teacher in the magical arts.  I had never been to the Beast's quarters before, and I really hadn't any idea of how to find them.  

_But,_ I thought, optimistically, as I walked down a long white marble and gold-embellished corridor that was lined with graceful sylvan statues, _with enough searching and hopefully very few instances of getting lost in here, I might just come up with what I'm looking for._

I must have passed hundreds of rooms – for the castle surely had a thousand, if not more – in my exploration, but it seemed as if scarcely a few moments had gone by when I felt the sensation that I had passed through some sort of border and into a different area entirely.  The part of the castle that I was most used to frequenting was bright, cheery, and shining, with the sun shining in through countless numbers of tall, crystalline windows and the songs of tiny wild birds lilting sweetly through the air.  This part of the castle now, I realized, was different.  

It seemed larger, more empty and echoing: wild and unexplored and untouched as a millennium-old tomb.  In this place, I would be more likely to find towering evergreen trees to be used as lawn ornaments outside in the gardens instead of violets and tulips and sweet peas, and great forest stags with heavy, proud antlers crowning their heads instead of chipmunks and songbirds.  

This, most definitely, would be a place where one might think to find a beast.

I stepped forward, gathering my skirts in both of my hands so that they wouldn't rustle against the floor and disturb the perfect silence.  I felt as if I was entering a solemn, hidden sanctuary of sorts…as if I was intruding and should leave that instant.  

_My Beast – I must find my Beast, that's all…_

I continued on my way down the silent hallway, eyeing my surroundings and wondering why I wasn't seeing any of the Sprytes hurrying about on their usual business, hovering stationary in the air for a moment or two and then sizzling on their way.  Even the sound of the wind blowing outside seemed somehow more untamed, larger.

After a few moments more of this, I found myself rounding a corner in the hallway, trailing up a winding set of dark stairs, entering yet another hallway, and then looking directly at a set of heavy, massive doors entirely composed of some sort of black wood, bound with silvery iron, with no other ornaments or markings whatsoever.  

The doors to my room, like many others, were decorated and had plates with their names engraved onto them.  Framing the doors to my room, there was a delicate, scrolling network of silver leaves and vines, studded with sparkling diamonds the size of my clenched fist, and the doors themselves were made of a light-coloured wood that appeared to be ash.  They reminded me of an undisturbed pool in the middle of the forest, or a cluster of brilliant stars in the night sky.  _These_ doors were grave and foreboding, seemingly there to ask whomever marked them: do you really wish to enter?  

But what was I thinking?  There was nothing for me to balk at here.  The Beast had said, "There is nothing here that will serve to harm you, milady; you must not be afraid.  As long as I am the master here, you are the mistress.  Everything is at your command."

I wasn't to be afraid.

So I squared my shoulders, pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes in grim determination, and moved towards the doors.  However, just as I was about to put out my hand to push one open, it glided inwards, exposing a room full of dark shadows and faint light beyond.  I hesitated.  

Would he be angry with me if I suddenly simply appeared in his quarters, looking as if I was nosing about like some country simpleton?

_But he kissed you…he _must_ know more than that!_

I blushed furiously at that thought and paused, regardless of the moment, reminded of how fiercely his arms had tightened about me that night, and how I had wanted that moment to go on and on forever.  What a strange adolescent child I was!  I stepped forward then, summoning my mind back to reality, and entered the room.  I paused again once I had passed over the thresh hold, and looked about myself.

"Beast?"

My voice, quiet as it had been, echoed in the room and again, I heard the seemingly very loud sighing of the wind outside.  I bit my lower lip, frowning as a sense of nervousness gripped me.  Was this a bad idea?

"Beast, are you here? I…"

Then I trailed off, not knowing quite what to say next, and stepped further into the room.  Like my own chambers, his were fronted by a spacious drawing room, with several other doors leading off to the suite's accompanying rooms.  Since everything was very dark here, lit only by glimpses of the pale light from the windows, shining through the heavy, thick drapes that hung at them, I couldn't see much.  I shivered suddenly.

_He could be just a few feet to my side, and I wouldn't know it._

My uneasiness was getting the better of me, and I really didn't want to look as if I was a nosy little child, poking about where she shouldn't be, so I turned to go.  The floor beneath my feet – which I supposed had to be some sort of wood – obligingly creaked as I stepped upon it.  I suppressed a sickened groan when I heard it, and then at the exact moment, the curtains at the window that was nearest to me blew open with a sudden gust of wind, and I was hit by a blast of cool air, abruptly covered in light, exposed, and there were leaves swirling in the air around me.  I squinted a bit, my eyes racing to adjust themselves to the increase of light.  

A dark figure stood there in the space at the window, I saw then: looking as if it had just come up onto the balcony that was there, having landed in a perfect, almost cat-like crouch.  I blushed furiously – again.

"Looking for something?"

I twisted my fingers into my skirts, embarrassed.

"Mmm…you."

The dark figure, its face and form shadowed by the darkness in the room, made a quick, fluidly graceful movement, and suddenly candles around the room burst into flame and a fire roared into being at the fireplace.  I raised my eyes to look, sheepishly, up into the face of my Beast.  He was wearing a surprisingly amused expression on his dragon-like features, grinning a bit, which showed off his startlingly white fangs.

"Well, I'm glad to oblige." 

He then stepped forward, and only then did I belatedly realize that he had risen and stood away from the balcony, the draperies sliding shut behind him.  He crossed the room to the fireplace and began to remove the black velvet gloves that he was wearing, eyeing me as he did so, and asked, "How did you and Elenette make out with the runes?"

I shrugged, feeling my uneasiness slip away from me, and laughed lightly, throwing my hands up in the air, replying, "As best as is possible.  I really can't see how we're supposed to work this out, because I have only a little more than the _faintest_ idea of how to decipher ancient writings."

"It's good practice – you'll keep at it," he returned, casting me a stern teacher's look, placing the gloves on the mantelpiece, draping one paw-hand carelessly atop it. "So…what was it that you needed, milady Beauty?  Or was it simply my _company_ that you desired?"

I looked down, my fingers straying to brush the leather top of a pile of book that were lying on the table that I stood beside, and told him, "I needed nothing…I came to find you…but I really don't know why.  No particular reason." 

It was his turn to avert his gaze then, and I heard him mutter, part to me, part to himself, and part to the room in general, "Fate has a sense of irony to it, I suppose." I was unable to ask him for clarification before he gave it to me himself.  When I looked into his deep, golden-yellow eyes then, I saw a vast depth of varied emotions in them: guilt, sorrow, despair, and pleading – much pleading. "Beauty, I'm sorry…there's something that I have been keeping from you, and I've known that I should have told you before now, but…" He trailed off, never taking his eyes from mine. "But I simply didn't.  There's no better reason than that."

I was confused now.  What had he not told me?

"Beast, what are you talking about?"

He moved restlessly, and brusquely gestured for me to take a seat on the richly upholstered chaise lounge that had been pulled up in front of the fire, just opposite of the tall brass-and-leather wingback chair that was also there.

"Sit down, please.  This may take a while."

I did as I was commanded and seated myself, staring at him with – I knew – a mixture of curiosity, wonder, and concern in my eyes.  He settled himself into the shadows of the large chair, so that I could only see a glitter of the firelight on his eyes every now and then, and the gleam of his claws and the velvet that he wore that day: black as midnight.  There was a long silence.

"Beauty…"

Another long pause.

"I have to leave for a while."

I almost flew up out of my chair, like a hen who had just had her feathers doused with ice cold water, but as it was, I gripped the arm of the chaise lounge, eyes widening and my body going rigid, and asked, incredulously, "You have to _what_?"

Of course, I knew that I wasn't making this easy but—

He was leaving?  He was going to go somewhere else and leave me here?  Why – how?  Where was he going to, and why was he going?  I didn't understand!

"Beauty, please."

He sat forward in his chair, eyes gazing into mine, truly earnest and pleading now.  His poor, mangled paws that could never hold a quill-pen or wield a paintbrush reached for my own quivering hands, to imprison them and keep them from shaking.

"Please," he repeated. "I'm sorry, but there's something that I…that I _must do_, and I don't want to leave you, but it has to be done!"

"But why?" 

I felt hurt, betrayed – abandoned by the only living soul, other than my father, who had ever truly loved me. 

"_Why_, and how can this be?"

He dropped his head, in defeat, it seemed, and I felt pricked by guilt and pity.  I reached out and gently let my fingertips drop to rest on his mane, running through its coarse, thick, golden roughness.  He made a low, rumbling sound that seemed to be some sort of a half-contented, half-miserable groan, the sound that an animal made when it was pained by an agonizing turn of events in its life.  

"I don't _want_ to go," he said, still without raising his head. "But Beauty," finally looking up at me, into my eyes, "It's something that I _have_ to do."

I nodded, knowing that I had to understand.  He had a life, and things to do, even if I never learned or comprehended or liked any of them at all.  I couldn't be selfish.

"I know."

He regarded me with completely emotionless eyes for another long moment then, and I felt as if he was reading my soul.

_Whatever you find there, I pray that it is what you are searching for…_

"A long time ago, before I ever came here," he began, his hands reaching to take both of mine in one of his, folding them together, "both Griff and I had some…_foul dealings_," It sounded as if he was hard-pressed to find the correct description of it, "in our business with a wizard of the White Realm.  His name was Saruptal." There was an unmistakable – a quiet and low but very unmistakable – growl in the undertones of that name.  "That was why I came here…he has been searching for us, world over, since that time, for we know two of his greatest secrets."

He paused again.

"He has turned against the White Realm, having fallen to the corruption of the dark side of the world's mortal magic, and he has stolen a rather powerful manuscript from the halls in the fortress of Avalennon itself – the Book of Hours."

I felt as if my head might burst.  _The Book of Hours!_

Then it suddenly all came clear to me.

"And so you're going to go find him, take back the Book, and return it to the faeries, thereby winning their favor and proving your…_alliance_, to them?"

I could only guess at what his relationship was to the White Realm.  But he nodded, gravely, and I saw that I was right.

"Yes.  That's why I have to go – if I have such an enemy as great as Saruptal chasing me down like a pack of hounds on the hunt, I cannot expect to live my life freely for very much longer.  If I can earn the White Realm's friendship and esteem…  You'll be safe then, Beauty, and that's all that I care about."

I stared at him.

From anyone else's lips, those words might have seemed trite – taken straight out of a book.  But I had never heard them used in my regard before.  I felt my lips trembling, and my vision blurred, and I pulled my hands out of his, reaching towards his face. 

"Oh Beast…"

My voice broke.

"Please, Beauty." I heard him say, pleadingly. "Don't cry – I can't bear it."

I fought off my tears and said, trying to be coherent, "I don't _care_ what happens to _me_…but if _you_ go, and this wizard finds you…and you never come back…" 

Then I caught myself up on a sob. 

"I couldn't bear _that_.  You're the only person who has ever loved me for who I am, in spite of all my failings, in spite of everything…I couldn't bear to lose you!"

"Beauty, Beauty…" he said, soothingly, and then he had come to sit beside me on the chaise lounge, my skirts pooling and bunching up around the both of us, and his paws came around my head and back, cradling me and holding me against his chest, so that I could hear his steady, rhythmic heartbeat and deep, calm breathing. "You'll never lose me." I pulled away, hair and tears blurring my vision, and looked up at him.

"Don't say that – I _will_ lose you, if you do this!"

"I haven't any choice."

My mind filled with blankness at that statement, and I didn't want to face the harsh reality that lay beyond me.  I simply wanted to go into shock.  He was leaving, and his mission would take him directly into the path of his archenemy, and then…

I didn't want to face that.

No, I _wouldn't_ face that.

"Let _me_ go."

He jerked, almost convulsively, and stared at me, eyes wide and astonished, very nearly afraid. "Beauty, _no_!" he said, sounding as if he was horrified.

"Please." 

I had calmed myself by then, even if there were still tears in my eyes. 

"I'll come back as soon as I can…let me go instead – I'll bring you the Book, and you can give it back to the faeries, and then everything will be all right…  Beast, they aren't looking for me.  They want _you_, but…"

"And if they discover you, and take you…?" he asked, seriously. "I'm only a beast, sweetest Beauty – and what have beasts to do, when they lose the thing that they cherish the most, the _only_ thing that they cherish?"

"What would _I_ do if I lost _you_?"

He looked at me, and I looked back at him, and we sat, wrapped up in each other's arms, for several moments that seemed to stretch into eternity.

Then, he shook his head and said, slowly and decidedly, "You would risk whatever dangers lie in this path for me.  I have never known such devotion from any living soul, and it is likely that I never will again.  I can refuse you nothing, Beauty…I do not have the power to predict the future, or to control all events…but I _cannot refuse you_." He sat up straight, the fingers of one paw coming up to run gently along the side of my face, in the only form of a caress that he could possibly enact. 

"My Beauty."

*                       *                       *

After that episode, things had to change rather quickly.  The best chance that we – for it was '_we_' now, instead of simply '_him_' – would have to secure the Book of Hours without being detected would be during a large social event for the wizards of the mortal and magical worlds, held in the fortress belonging to none other than the Beast's old archenemy, Saruptal.  How he had learned of the traitor's whereabouts and the location of the Book, or anything about the whole situation at all, I didn't know, and there wasn't enough time for me to ask.  If I were to go as the Beast's thief of sorts, I would have to be educated on how to be a thief before anything else happened.  

So I learned every form of the martial arts that had ever been created, sword fighting, archery, and espionage, along with not a few techniques on how to disguise myself in order to avoid detection.  If before I had considered the haste of my learning the ways of magic and enchantment to be breath taking, it was nothing in comparison to this.  Within scarcely two weeks, I was able to send an arrow directly into the bull's-eye of a target set ninety feet away, focusing on it with one eye closed.  

Being faery had its advantages, I must say.

However, one of the most interesting moments of my 'thievery-training', as the Beast and I came to call it, came about on the misty gray afternoon when he led me out deep into the forests beyond the castle, taking us so far away that I couldn't begin to recognize my surroundings.  When he had turned me around in a circle several times, as if to ensure his confidence that I was in absolute oblivion in regard to my position, he made me face him and looked squarely into my eyes, a mixture of solemnity and amusement in his topaz-coloured eyes, his scaly hands resting on my shoulders.

"All right, milady," he said: evenly, coolly. "This afternoon you are to learn a very important lesson, one which may prove imperative to the success of your mission to the wizards' convention.  We are now in a part of the castle's lands that borders on that of the world beyond: however, I have made certain that you have absolutely no idea of where we are.  Am I correct in this?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking this obvious.

"Oh, only_ too _correct." 

Suddenly, I felt even more exasperated that I had the moment before and asked him, as he turned away, going to look at something behind us in the thick density of the forest, "Beast, is this necessary?  I mean, I _know_ that you just told me it was totally crucial to getting the Book, but I can't really say that I know for sure that you're not simply doing this to play around with my mind.  What exactly am I supposed to do out here?  _Please_."

He flashed me a brilliant grin and replied, cool laugher in his tone, "Of course it's absolutely necessary, milady.  I wouldn't have asked you do it otherwise." 

I folded my arms across my chest and shot him a very dry, skeptical look.  He reacted by merely broadening his grin.

"Look, it goes something like this – I brought you out here where you don't know your way around so that you can learn one thing: how to depend on no one, on nothing, but _yourself_ to get your bearings and find your way out of any forest…be it a true forest, a labyrinth deep underground, or something else entirely."

"So you're going to tell me to find my way back to the castle now using nothing but my raw powers, instinct, and womanly intuition?" I replied, dryly, and he swept me a bow, the movement creating a blur of deep red in the gray mists around us.

"Precisely.  I'll be with you the entire time…invisible, so that you don't know where to hit at if this escapade frustrates you—"

"Beast, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you've had younger sisters sometime before now, because that's certainly the way an older brother might tease." I drawled, narrowing my eyes and giving him a long, hardly appreciative glare.  Something flashed across his eyes, something like the recognition of an old, long-dead memory, and then it was gone, almost before I had seen it.

"Yes, well…if sisters were something that I might have had, be assured, Lady Beauty, that they would be receiving an entirely _different_ sort of jesting on my part than you are receiving right now."

"Receiving?" I fired back. "More like 'being the brunt of'!"

"The verb you choose to describe my teasing matters little.  I shall be invisible to your eyes – and to anyone else's, for that matter," he added, more seriously, "and I shall remain so until you have found your way out of this forest.  I won't leave you here to fend for yourself."

"So you're simply going to stand by and laugh at me while I stumble along on my way, tripping over tree roots and making an utter idiot out of myself?" I shrugged. "It sounds easy enough.  Are there any conditions, rules, what-have-you, to this highly intriguing little game that you propose, milord Beast?"

His eyes were suddenly staring deeply into mine, and I only vaguely heard his reply before it began to resound and register into my mind.  "Only that you do not use your powers to transport yourself back to the castle.  If you are to find your way out of any forest in your life…"

"The quickest way out isn't always the best." I murmured, finishing his statement for him.  He nodded, gravely, still staring into my eyes.

"Yes." 

He then stepped close to me, very close, so that we were now touching, and one of his paws lifted to run its fingers, talons and all, through my hair.  I closed my eyes, feeling the gentle whisper of his breath on my face, and the greater whisk of the wind against our still forms as we stood there in the middle of the trees.  

"You have proven yourself to be much more intelligent, thoughtful, perceptive, and courageous than any other woman that I have known, Beauty – I have faith in you."

_And when it comes down it, in the end of all things, your faith is all that matters._

For a moment, it seemed as if my thought had been said aloud.  The forest became very still and I wondered if we had both stopped breathing.  Then, I inhaled a long, shuddering breath and looked at him, raising my eyes to gaze upwards so that I was peering through the quivering haze of my eyelashes.

"You'll be here?" I asked him, and he nodded.

"I'll be here."

I stepped away then, pacing a few steps in front of him, and gazed for a silent, pensive moment at the forest around myself.  

The trees seemed tall, spindly, and dark amidst the thick gray mist that swathed them; I could have easily pictured myself as a young child, lost in a great somewhere that she knew nothing of, with no one to find her, to rescue her and tell her that they would take her home, where she would be safe.  I shook this off and took another deep, resolving breath.  The Beast was behind me still, I knew it.  Even though he made no movement, gave no sound, I knew that he was there: standing behind me, watching my back, watching, waiting, considering.

Knowing.

"Well, I've got to start somewhere."

I moved off, sending out threads of my magic into the forest and casting them towards wherever the castle happened to be, hoping that – wherever I was and whatever came to pass next – I would somehow find the bravery in myself to learn not only the mysteries of my own heart, but that of my Beast's sadness, which haunted me whenever I looked into his eyes.

*                       *                       *


	17. Beauty

Author's note:  All right – who's up for a long chapter?  I thought about splitting it up, but this story is getting really really long chapter-wise, so I decided to keep this part as a whole.  Forgive me if it takes you a while to get through it, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it anyways…

Disclaimer/claimer:  Arielle and Orlando are mine; their parts as Beauty and the Beast, however, are not mine since I did not write the original tale.  Griff is also mine, as is the White Realm, the countries and other characters mentioned, and the Sprytes.  And Elenette would be oh-so-happy if you would review and tell me what you think of her (sorry, but you don't mess with a Spryte when they want you to do something…)

On with the story then.

_A certain man had a donkey, which had carried the corn-sacks to the mill indefatigably for many a long year. But his strength was going, and he was growing more and more unfit for work. Then his master began to consider how he might best save his keep. But the donkey, seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the road…_

"I'm hoping that that's not the same tree that we passed half an hour ago, or I am most _definitely_ going to sit down and call this whole thing off."

So saying, I flopped myself down onto the large, thick roots of the aforementioned tree, bringing my legs up towards myself so that they bent at the knees, at a height where I could rest my head and hands on them.  There was a slight rustling of leaves in the bush beside me, and I felt warmth there, which told me that the Beast had also stopped.  I heard his breath and sensed his presence, although he was completely invisible.  Anyone else might have found this unnerving, but I certainly didn't.

"Actually, no.  It isn't.  You are doing surpassingly well."

I craned my head up and back, making a sour face in the general direction of his disembodied voice, and replied, "Liar.  You're just saying that."

"Why would I?" came his plaintive answer.

I didn't make an answer to that – I couldn't, and I wouldn't.  Instead, I got up and paced a little ways off from the tree.  I wanted to be home: home, in my rooms, in my chair, in our castle, sitting beside a roaring fire wearing a cozy, soft velvet gown, with one of my books cradled in my arms, as Elenette and my other Sprytes bustled about, setting the room to order and attending to various other things.  

Anywhere but out here, in the middle of a cold, maze-like forest wearing a dark green gown and gray cloak, both of which were made of wool and were therefore beginning to chafe me terribly after all of the walking that I had done that afternoon, as an irritatingly chilly, steady film of icy rain continually drizzled down around me.  Even if the weather in the castle's lands _was_ controlled by magic, which kept it in a winter-like state, it wasn't _always_ nice.

"You said that these lands where we are now are fairly close to the borders of the world beyond – would we see any evidence of this?" I asked the silent air, suddenly inspired.  If I could find out where those borders were and how to recognize them, I could use my magic to calculate the distance between the furthest outlying reaches of the castle's lands and the castle itself.  It was worth a try.

"Yes.  A wall – the one that you undoubtedly saw when you came here, surrounds most of the castle.  However, some of it is not, and you would most definitely be able to tell where the castle began and the world beyond it stopped."

Another thought came to me – irrelevant, but somehow important, it seemed.

I frowned and asked then, "But wouldn't that mean that things…other things, like people and their sort, would be able to find the castle?"  
"No." I pictured him shaking his dragon-like head, his long, spiky golden mane whisking across his broad, strong shoulders with the motion. "I put…a spell…on the borders…a long time ago.  That's why no one has ever come here before."

_Until my father did._

I bit my lip, glancing around myself, still trying to get my bearings, but also wondering, at the same time, if I was treading on unsafe ground, where I could easily break open the still-tender wounds of the circumstances that had caused our companionship.  I bore him no resentment for the past, and he knew that as well as I did, but still…

"Oh…" I sat down again at the foot of the tree, thought of another question, hesitated for a moment, and then decided to ask it anyway. 

"There isn't anything that could find its way in here then?"

A pause, as if he was trying to decide how to explain the answer to that.

"Mmm…the spell that I used to create the borders was meant to keep everything and anythingfrom finding its way to the castle, for obvious reasons," and I didn't even have to think about what those were, "but sometimes it would seem that my will isn't _quite_ what controls everything within my power."

"Something higher." I said.

"Yes." Another pause, shorter than the first. "I suppose that I ought to be grateful for it…but only in a very odd way."

"Me too." 

I stood and rolled my shoulders, feeling pangs of pain shoot up and down my back, and knew that I was pushing myself just a bit too far on this.

"Well, perhaps these borders won't be so utterly hidden that I won't be able to see them." I told him my scheme then and he replied that it seemed noteworthy, and so we set off once more, looking for the castle's elusive borders.  

After about a half an hour's walk, I found that we were in sight of a road: a small, packed-dirt country road, but a road nonetheless.  I glanced behind myself, wondering if that was where the Beast was, and said, tentatively, "These borders…can they be crossed by beings within the castle's lands?"

There was a long silence then, and I could feel that his eyes were on me.

"Yes…they can…but not by me."

I drove off a shiver, thinking of how the world would react to a person like my Beast.  People loved beauty: they loved seeing things that were lovely, or dramatic, or aw-inspiring, or simply amusing, but terrible creatures that were ugly compared to other beauties were never things that survived very long in the other world, the place that I had once called home.  I had lost that world, if it had ever been mine or found…and I had gained my Beast and his world.  And when it came down to that…

"Beast, I—"

Suddenly, I glimpsed movement from far down the road.  I wavered on the edge of resolving to duck into the bushes in order to hide from whomever was coming or to remain where I was and look on.  I stood still and watched.  

"Dismissed beast of burden." I heard the Beast mutter.

And it was.

What I now saw was a donkey – soft gray and white, with long, floppy ears and a pair of big, lovable brown eyes – trotting down the road.  Or more like shuffling, it appeared.  The animal's head was drooping downwards, towards the ground, and it was the very picture of abject despondence.  I felt my heart go out towards it, as any young girl's would, and before I knew what I was doing, I had stepped out of the trees and onto the side of the road.  The Beast was standing behind me, staring at me in complete shock, I knew, but I didn't care.  I had to help this creature, whatever its problem was.

_Hello there._

The donkey came to an abrupt halt, head and ears shooting up, and its eyes focused on me.  It looked surprised, in an animal's way.

_Who are you, girl-maiden?  And why is your voice inside of my mind?_

_I'm an enchantress.  Don't be afraid.  Your head is downcast, gray-one.  Why is this so?_

The donkey huffed a great, heavy sigh.

_My master has turned me from his farm, as I am no longer fit for work.  I am too old, he says, and an old donkey has no use in a prosperous farm.  And so I am now without a home, without a master, and without a hope._

Oh, this was not right.  I _had_ to help now.

_Perhaps I could offer you my assistance._

_How?  How could you help me?_

_What do you like to do, master Donkey?_

_Well…I like to sing._

How perfect.

_There is a town only a little ways from here – it is known as Bremin.  There are many people there who enjoy music and merrymaking…why do you not travel to Bremin and try your luck there?  You could make your fortune._

The donkey's air became abruptly hopeful and energetic.

_I will.  I will go to Bremin, and I will try my luck at making my fortune there.  There is still hope in this world!_

_Even for you?_

_Even for me!_

_Especially for you.  _

_Thank you, maiden-enchantress.  Whenever you are in need, I shall do my best to aid you in any way that I can._

I smiled and patted him on the top of his head.

"Farewell, gray-one, and good luck."

The donkey trotted off down the road, stopping only once to turn about and look at me for a final time, as if he was wondering whether I was really there or not, and then he was gone.  I grinned brightly, feeling overjoyed that I had helped at least someone today, even if that someone had been an old donkey who had been forced out of his home.  I lifted my long, evergreen skirts in both of my hands, stepping over the undergrowth at the side of the road, back into the castle's lands.  Almost immediately, the Beast materialized, and I smiled at him.

"The castle is only a little over five miles off, milord." I informed him, and was rewarded by a look of utter shock on his dragon's face.

"First off, how did you know that, and so quickly, and second, what exactly were you talking about with that donkey?"

"You might tell me how _you_ knew that he had been dismissed from his job at a farm." I commented, coolly and acerbically.

He gave me a truly sour look then, and replied, "Well, if you're going to be such a princess about it, I shall simply have to resort to teaching you a lesson by either requiring you to find your way through the forest again using _not_ your powers but a trail of _breadcrumbs_ to guide you—"

"Or by hiding a pea underneath my mattress so that I'll wake up black and blue with bruises all over in the morning?  Honestly, Beast!" I laughed at him, girlishly indeed, and then I finally told him, "All right, fine.  I calculated the distance from the borders here back to the castle with my magic as I was stepping back in." I motioned at the line between the world beyond and the castle land. "And as to what I was talking about with that donkey…" 

I then informed him of my conversation with the animal, and by the time that I had finished, he was wearing a look of great amusement – and no small amount of wonder – on his face.  He shook his head, grinning.

"You're amazing even to the animals, Beauty – whether they be simply old, worn-out beasts of burden or _real_ beasts."

"Ah yes," I replied, stepping close to him and putting my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me so that I could look straight into his eyes.  "But there is a great difference in my relationship to an amazed donkey…and my completely amazing Beast."

He looked at me for a long, silent moment then, seeming to be almost startled, and I wondered what thoughts were going through his head…what I had just done in saying those words.  Then, he stepped away from me and offered me his hand.

"Come, milady – I think that you have mastered this task more entirely that I could have imagined possible.  There is no need for me to test you any further."

I took his hand and he drew me towards him, lifting my hand up, imprisoning it with his, to let it rest against his chest, next to his heart.  I gazed into his eyes.

"Let's go home."

*                       *                       *

Exactly two days later, something very interesting – and almost very _dangerous_ – befell the entire castle at Griffith's hands…or rather wingtips, but I digress.  

The Beast and I were in one of the tower rooms in the east side of the palace; he was showing me how to cast a protective spell, which would shield me from anyone's magic but my own.  Doubtless, it would be very convenient to have as an asset in my very quickly nearing assignment.  

Together, we stood at a large wooden table, which had a rather long and full skirt of dark green silk trailing around its entire length; the top – however – had been left bare.  All over it, we had scattered the instruments of our spell-working: glass vials and jars, coils of heat-reactive iron which produced the flames that were needed to heat the liquids within the glass, books, papers, quill-pens, and ink wells.  I wore a gown that was a dusky gray-lilac satin, dull and heavy, but adequate for wear during my work with magic and enchantment studies.  The Beast wore his usual sleeved-robe, tunic, breeches, and boots attire.  The boots were smooth black leather that went perfectly with the deep, dark green material of his clothing, which was trimmed with a tawny, almost brass-like gold.  I assumed that he thought both our attire suitable for this afternoon's project, or he would have said something about it.  

Five of the Sprytes, two of which were Elenette and Raethyr, and Griff, of course, were also present.  Beside me, the Beast was leafing through the pages of a large, ancient book, his large golden eyes scanning over the faery words within it with startling rapidity as he ran the tip of the claw that ended his forefinger down the manuscript's many long, fine-printed paragraphs.  

I watched him, also keeping a careful eye on the burner and glass that stood near my right hand.  I couldn't let it begin to smoke, or the whole experiment would be impossible to enact.  Finally, the Beast seemed to have found what he was searching for and stood up straight, towering above me at his full seven-odd-feet of height, looking satisfied.

"All right, unless somehow this page has been torn out and replaced in a different section of the book, and if I remember all the parts to this spell correctly, I think we'll be able to see if the shield will work.  Here, take this." 

He handed me the book, which I had to hold with both arms in order to keep it aloft, for it was – not too surprisingly – rather heavy, and then picked out, from among our material spell-assets, a vial three-quarters of the way full of some sort of strange, alcoholic-smelling purple substance in it.  He caught me eyeing the paragraph on the shielding spell, or '_Derharaein Inis_' as it was termed in the faery language, and explained.

"Normally, most spells can be set up by simply saying the few right words – however, some of them are different, such as _this_ spell.  Fire crystals are extremely helpful to enhance one's inborn magical abilities, which is what this amethyst, lavender, violet – or whatever name for purple that you want to use – solution happens to be."

I made a musing noise, nodding to show him that I understood, and bit my bottom lip contemplatively, then asked, "If you knew the right way to use…fire crystals, then…would it give someone who didn't have 'inborn magical abilities' a sort of powers, not as great or potent as that of a faery, but still essentially magical in nature?"

He nodded affirmatively to my conjecture, and picked up the glass that had been sitting on top of the burner, turning the latter's flame down so that it became a very soft, pale blue ring of glowing heat.

"Yes, exactly.  One who makes use of the elements of the earth to give himself magical powers that he would have not otherwise been given is what are commonly known to us: faeries, as mortal sorcerers, wizards, conjurers, and enchanters.  To name a few of the titles of their occupations." He added this last coolly. "Of course, the earthen elements are also a great help to even the mightiest faeries, when they are called for."

"So, along with this…essence of fire crystals," I quickly improvised the name, which made him smile a bit with inner laughter, "The book says that we're supposed to use a rock's tears…" 

He held up the glass, its shimmering, silvery contents sloshing around a bit with the movement that his hand caused.  "Salt, mica, and rain water, basically."

"All right then…" I took this in before going on, "That, and a drop of all-forests' sap," which was a mixture of several different trees' sap: thick, sticky, and amber in another glass vial, "And that's supposed to give me a shield from anyone else's magic?  Now I need an explanation for this, teacher."

He grinned, flashing his brilliant white teeth, and took the last vial from me, beginning to measure out the exact requirements for the spell, speaking as he worked. 

"Here you have your three basic elements: fire, water, and earth – oh, and air, because it also calls for a breath from the object in question's lungs, meaning yours," he said, looking up momentarily to make eye contact with me, "And together with the right words, they will create a shield to make you invisible to any kind of magic, or otherwise simply untouchable.  It's really very simple."

He finished with the potion and gestured for me to move into the center of the room.  As I backed up, a sudden thought popped into my head and I asked, "Um…what would happen, hypothetically, if somehow the person who casts the spell fudges on it a bit?  Would anything happen then?"

He furrowed his brow, seemingly in confusion, but deep down I received the sense that he knew what I meant but merely wanted to give me a hard time about it.

" 'Fudges on it'?  I beg your pardon?"

I rolled my eyes in keen exasperation, but didn't give him anything more to indicate it.  "Screws it up.  Makes a mistake.  You know."

He chuckled, lightly and dismissively, stepping towards me with the vial cradled cautiously between his two paw-hands, and replied, coolly, "My dear Lady Beauty, I really haven't the _faintest_ idea of what you mean.  Could you possibly be concerned that I – _I_, may I emphasize – could really cast _any_ spell in error?"

"No-o." I said, dragging out the word in my nervous apprehension. "It's just that – well, what happens when someone, _anyone_ really, tries to cast a spell and doesn't do it the right way?  Would the results be irreparable?"

That made him pause to consider.  I watched him, trying to see into his thoughts as he cocked his head to one side and looked up at the ceiling, pensively.  "They might be," he finally conceded. "But then they might not be.  I really haven't the faintest idea, as I said before…only in a slightly more jesting tone." 

He reached out one hand, a gesture for me to hand him the book, which I did as he continued, musingly.  

"Really, if the someone who is faced with the choice of casting a spell and wreaking havoc with it, should he make a mistake, or simply not doing anything of the sort at all, he should probably stay with the latter option."

"In other words, 'don't take risks'?"

He eyed me carefully then, his gaze knowing and yet also searching.

"Not quite.  Risks are essential to the continuation of our existence, Arielle; they are what help us to learn and what give us new ways to live.  But allowing a fool, or merely someone who has no idea of how to wield magic and enchantment, to do so is more than a risk – it was a deadly error."

He stepped back again, after replacing the book on the table, and faced me.  

"Are you ready now?" 

I nodded, taking a breath to steady myself.

"Now or _never_."

He nodded and murmured a few words in faery then, holding the vial of our spell-assisting potion with one hand over the other, cupping them both, his arms bent at the elbow so that it appeared as if he was holding a large, invisible globe.  

Suddenly a dim but steadily increasing pale blue light – like the fire of the burner – began to materialize in a whirling, spiral-like vortex between his hands.  Then he said another few words and moved his hands so that they faced, palm-outward, towards me.  

The magic that he had created shot at me, making a graceful swoop down to the floor and then swirling up around me, beginning at my feet and traveling up, in a perfect circle, around my body until it had crested above my head.  I heard a faint noise like firecrackers being set off, and there were several flashes of white light, and I closed my eyes against them, bedazzled.  Then a very large, dry, scaly hand took mine and I opened my eyes, looking up and into the face of my dear friend.

"What – did it work?" I asked, and he smiled, nodding.

"Absolutely.  Now even I, your teacher, couldn't reach you with any sort of spell…at least until about three hours from now."

"Wait a minute." I said, frowning in confusion. "What protection is a shielding spell that only lasts for three hours?"

He shrugged. 

"They last for as long as the person who casts the spell orders them to…which is why you should be _very_ careful with whom you choose to be your partner in this spell.  It could mean your life or your death."

"I'll remember that." I remarked, and then we turned back towards the other side of the room, where Griff sat, nestled quite comfortably in the deep, plush pillows of a richly upholstered couch.  He had also found a book from one of the room's many bookshelves and was reading it, quite intensely, it appeared.  The Beast sent me a raised-eyebrow look and then called to his friend, "Griff, what exactly are you about over there?  Doing some reading up on your magic?"

The goose started and craned his head up at the Beast, looking as if he didn't quite appreciate being interrupted from his reading.

"If you _must_ know…it's a book on sleep."

"Sleep?"  
There was more than just a hint of amusement in the Beast's voice.

"Yes, _sleep_." Griffith fired back. "Entitled 'Sleep, Dreams, and Other Mysterious Realms of the Mind: What A Hundred Years' Sleep Can Teach One."

The Beast laughed out loud then, stooping to pluck the book up off of the sofa, and shook his head as he read the title on its cover.

"Griff, Griff, Griff…" He sighed, chuckling lightheartedly. "I don't know what interest you have in this, but the lady queen who wrote this was more than _slightly_ eccentric – more like wired for life, really.  Being put into a comatose-like state for a hundred years on your sixteenth birthday by a disgruntled sorceress can do strange things to a girl's mind, especially if she's a hermit who's been kept from going anywhere _near_ a spinning wheel by her hypochondriac parents most of her pitiable life.  That much sleep…do you think she _ever_ complained when her children were teething and had to be up, rocked, and walked about all night?  _Really_."

"Mock all you like, milord," Griffith replied, dismissively, as the Beast returned the book to him. "But it's not quite like that.  You see, there's this one spell in here that I find particularly interesting; it's not just some strange old lady's fiddle-faddle."

"Then what exactly is it?" the Beast inquired, sounding bored.

"It's a sleeping spell."

And then something very terrible – but later, on recollection of the memory, very funny – happened.  Griffith intoned the faery words of the spell, and the Beast, who had been turning towards the door, with me trailing him, whirled around: a look of utter horror on his dragon's face.  "Griff, _NO_!"

But it was too late.

There was a sound like a violent autumn wind blowing through the branches of trees filled with dried leaves, and something very much like that suddenly blew through the castle, flinging the windows open.  It was too strong for me to stand up against, and I found myself knocked to the floor by the sheer force of the gale.  I heard a dull, sickening thud and a lot of whistling of the wind, and then it stopped.  

Dazed by my fall and chilled by the coldness of the wind, with my hair flying about in a disarray and my clothing mussed, I managed to haul myself to my feet, saying as I got up, "Beast?  What—"

And then I saw him, collapsed half on the floor and half on the couch, eyes closed, and not moving at all.  Griff also had fallen to one side, his head lolling limply.  I inhaled sharply, the sound coming out as a combination of a shriek and a gasp, and fell to my knees beside my Beast, taking him by his great, broad shoulders and lowering the two of us to the ground, cradling him in my arms.  

"Beast!" I cried to him, but it was no use.  He didn't respond.  Oh, what had happened?  What kind of spell had Griff brought down on the castle?  Had he killed them all – all except me, because I had been protected by the shielding spell?  

Frantically, I cast about for the book that he had been reading.  But there were now many books on the floor, knocked down by the gale.  I hadn't any idea of which one to look for.  I reached for the one nearest to me, hoping vainly that it would be the one.  It wasn't.  I dropped the book, feeling as if I was about to break down into tears.  

If they were no longer alive…

_Wait – Griff said it was a _sleeping spell_!_

I hastily put my hand up to the Beast's face then, placing it over his nose – or whatever you call a dragon's nose – and felt a hot, steady stream of air being chugged out onto my skin.  I took his hand in mine, trying to find his pulse.

No one in the castle was dead.

They were simply all _asleep_.

And then, just when I had begun to think that nothing any stranger could happen, the book that I had picked up and then thrown down began to shake and rattle convulsively on the floorboards.  

I started back, still keeping my arms about my Beast, and watched as several rays of yellow light shot forth from underneath its cover.  Then, it blasted open and yellow light had filled the room with a sublime sort of glow.  I looked up and saw, looming over me, with a bright, merchant-like grin plastered onto his round, golden face and tubby arms crossed over his bare chest…

A very strange being.

He bowed to me, golden jewelry clinking with the movement, and I saw that he had no legs; his body ended at his waist, dissolving into a wisp of yellow smoke that emanated from the book's now-open pages.  I gaped at him.

"Greetings, O-Great-and-Fair One.  I am the Golden Genie, whom you have freed from my captivity within the pages of this book, where my last master had placed me.  Because of your valor and kindness, I will grant you any three wishes that you may desire to have fulfilled – but requesting more wishes or an endless supply thereof is not permitted."

"Permitted?" I was too dazed to think clearly. "Why?"

The genie rolled his eyes, throwing up his large arms.

"I don't know.  Corporate policy."

"Oh."

I tried to make myself consider this situation rationally.

The genie, meanwhile, had turned to give the room a thorough – and rather skeptical – once over, one eyebrow arched, arms returned to their former position.

"All right now…what exactly happened here?"

I brushed that off.

"It's a long story.  Look, you said you could give me three wishes?"

The genie nodded, business-like again.

"Yes, O-Beauteous-Goddess-of-Peerless-Perfection."

"Just call me Arielle." I told him. "In that case then, I need to make use of my first wish right now.  There's a sleeping spell over this entire castle – could I wish to have it broken and everything, and everyone, restored to normal?"

The genie made a musing sound, rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thoughtfully. "Yesss…" he replied. "But the method to taking it away is a rather unorthodox one, I must forewarn you."

"I don't care!  Just take it off and bring them all back!"

I was losing patience, for this situation was not amusing.

The genie bowed again, deeply, and then told me, as he straightened, "Then your wish is my command, O…Arielle.  To break this sleeping spell, I must first cause all of the roses in the gardens which surround this castle in which we stand to grow up and become so monstrous that they cover it entirely, and then _you_ must pluck the white rose that will grow outside of the window here and prick your finger on it.  Then, you must kiss your finger and trace a circle in the air three times, and all will be as it was before."

"Done."

It sounded easy enough, if not just slightly…odd.  But fates, I had been warned.  I pulled a pillow off of the couch, eased it under the Beast's head, and got to my feet.  

The genie waved his arms about, chanting in some strange language that I didn't know yet, and then there was a rumbling all about us, and then a shadow fell across the window, and I saw that all of the roses had indeed grown up to cover the castle, blocking it – I assumed – from view.  

I went to the window and pushed it open, with some difficulty as the roses were crammed up against the glass, and picked the first white rose that I saw.  Then I pressed my fingertip against a thorn, winced slightly at the pain it caused me, and kissed the wound, tracing a circle in the air then.  

There was another violent gust of wind, and the ground rumbled again, and suddenly the genie was gone, having disappeared back into his book, and the Beast and Griff were sitting up, blinking and groaning.  The Sprytes in the room also began to pick themselves up and float dizzily about, seeming to be in wonder at what had happened.  

"Beauty…" the Beast said, and I went to help him to his feet.  When he was standing once more, he put one hand to the side of his head, rubbing it as if he had a very painful headache – aftermath of the spell, I guessed.  "Er…what…exactly…happened?"

"It's a long story." That was becoming a good excuse today. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, narrowing his eyes.  He was beginning to recall what had happened, I realized.  Oh dear fates.  Griff.

"I'm fine.  How did you…Never mind.  _Griff_!"

I bit my lip, trying not to smile at the thought of the Beast chasing a honking Griffith about, yelling at him about what an idiot he was, and turned to replace the fallen books in their respective places.  But, even if I hadn't yet been given the chance to tell him what had happened in the few minutes between the casting of Griff's sleeping spell and their reawakening, _I_ knew of it, and I would always have that memory.

I also had two more wishes to spend.

*                       *                       *

That night, I had a strange dream.

A dream that I would never forget.

The blackness of peaceful, undisturbed sleep surrounded me at first, like an endless void of warm black velvet: comforting and yet tediously simple.  Then, I felt as if I was awakening out of the darkness, and moving towards a distant, dim glow of soft light.  Slowly, ever so slowly, it came closer, closer, until a flash of brilliant whiteness engulfed me – and then I opened my eyes and looked around myself.

Above me, I saw an enormous, grand room, a ballroom: its ornate gold and silver and crystal embellished ceilings towered over the cream and white marble floor, which gleamed in the light of thousands of candles in their diamond chandeliers.  Its walls were lined with tall, slender windows.  I stood amidst a line of imposing, majestic pillars, hidden behind one.  I felt as if a great, strong wind was blowing all about me, lifting my hair off of my shoulders and stirring my gown.  When I looked at my hands, they seemed to be transparent: hovering on the brink of the tangible world and the endless void of nothingness.  A white glow was around me.  

I looked forward, feeling as if I was supposed to be searching for something but didn't know what it was that I was looking for.  Away from me, beyond the shadows beneath the pillars, hundreds of beautiful, finely dressed people milled about: guests at a fantastic ball.  Music, haunting and soul-stirring strains of music, swelled in the air around me, ebbing gradually into my senses.  Then I let my eyes focus on a group of people who stood only a little ways off from me, circled about each other.

There were three of them: two men, and a woman, and that was not counting the two young girls who were walking away from the three.  The woman was surpassingly beautiful, although she appeared to be somewhat older.  She had a perfect figure which was set off by her bejeweled gown, and she had hair that reminded me of a sun-kissed spun gold, porcelain skin, and fine, aristocratic features with a pair of flashing blue eyes.  To her right stood a tall, attractive young man with dark hair and a kind, jovial-looking face; the two young girls that were leaving the woman's side had their backs to me, and so I couldn't see their faces, but they both had long, straight dark hair, and both wore long, simply elegant gowns.

The man who stood across from the woman, however…

I found myself desperate to see him and nothing else.  I couldn't see his face very well, since he stood with his back almost turned on me, but what I could see captivated me.  

He was tall, taller than either of his companions, and his build was both slender and powerful, a perfect balance between strength and grace.  His hair was a warm golden-brown, thick and unruly, its golden tones reflected in his smooth skin.  I caught a glimpse of his profile every now and then as I looked on.  His features were youthful, with sensuous lips, a straight, fine nose, high forehead, a cleanly cut, firm chin, chiseled cheekbones, and arched eyebrows.  

And his eyes were large, intense, and beautiful: framed with long, dark eyelashes, their irises the colour of the bluest sky, the brightest sapphires.

_I know his eyes…_

The beautiful youth was talking to the woman and their companion.  It seemed, from the easy, relaxed gestures, expressions, and movements of their mouths in speech, that they were all three familiar with one another.

A family.

_Of course._

I continued to watch, wishing that I could hear what they were saying.  A sense of guiltiness arose in me.  Even though this appeared to be nothing more than a dream, I knew too much about magic and my faery side to believe in merely the outward appearances of dreams.  My Beast had once told me that dreams weren't things to be taken lightly, especially in his castle: _our_ castle.  I knew that what I now saw was more than something brought about by my own imagination: this was either something from the past, present, or future.  It wasn't a dream – it was a vision.  

Which is something else entirely.

Suddenly, I felt a strained pressure on the air: pulling at me and hovering about my ears, and then the picture in front of me began to fade, the glimmering ballroom growing darker, and I heard the sound of a fierce, wild, and cold wind blowing about me, tearing at my skin, hair, and clothing.  

"_Who are you_?" a voice cried through the air, seeming to come from a far distance off.  It began to echo, and then it changed from the musical, tenor voice of a young man to my own voice, driving into my head.  

Who are you?  Who are you?  Who are you?

Then the blackness was gone, as a sharp orange light exploded into my senses.  I was now standing in the shadowy recesses of a mostly darkened room; the light that I saw came from two torches that were set in sconces on either side of the chamber's one door.  The moonlight and starlight that filtered in through the window was soft and silvery, but somehow despairing, as if the moon and her sparkling children knew that something was amiss, that something was about to go wrong.  I became aware of the sound of someone breathing, gently and steadily.  

I turned around a bit and saw the beautiful young man from the ballroom.  This time he was much closer to me, and yet I still could not quite see his face.  He had discarded much of his ornate formal wear and was now garbed in a simple, full-cut shirt of pale blue silk, black breeches, and gleaming black boots.  He was curled up, in a half-relaxed, half-alert position, in one corner of the window seat, staring up at the night sky with an air that seemed both wistful and searching.  Without thinking, I took a small, involuntary step towards him, my hand rising from my side to reach out to him.  

Suddenly, he stiffened, catching his breath, and then he was sitting bolt upright, staring ahead of himself with widened eyes.  I caught my breath sharply and stepped backwards, afraid that he had somehow seen me.  But no – he hadn't.  Instead, his gaze shifted to the door; someone was coming.  I could hear footsteps drawing rapidly nearer.  

The door was flung open with quite a violent force, and the youth stood up, crossing the room in two strides, and then another figure had barreled in through the door.  I couldn't see who that second person was, for the shadows obscured his face and most of his figure, which was slightly broader and noticeably shorter than that of the young man. 

But he saw – and visibly knew – who his visitor was.  He stepped forward, towards the dark figure, and I saw his lips move, heard his muffled and distant voice say, "Father?" in a tone of great trepidation and shock.  The boy was then roughly shoved back into the room by the newcomer, who slammed the door to and barred it, then deposited a large, ancient-looking manuscript into the surprised arms of his companion.  Without another moment's pause, the older man cast a dark, heavy cloak over his son's head, blinding his vision, and fled as if the night's blackest shadows were coming to seek his blood.

"No, _wait_!" I cried, running forward; but I couldn't do anything.  In another moment, as the young man reeled about, trying to catch his balance and detangle himself from the cloak's embrace, heavy blows sounded upon the door, accompanied by shouts muffled by the seemingly thick air, and then it was broken in, and a company of soldiers flooded into the room.  They surrounded the boy, and I saw one figure then who particularly stood out among them.  

It was a man of medium height, with a broad, athletic build, sharp features, and dark hair and dark, piercing eyes.  Something about him reminded me of some type of reptile – or any other deadly creature who was not to be trusted.

They were going to hurt the boy.

"_Stop_!"

I ran forward, but it was too late; it was futile.  I couldn't do anything.  I was merely an observer of an event that might have already happened, or was happening now, or was to come about in the future.  I wanted to save the beautiful young man, but it was impossible.  There was nothing that I could do.  The scene before me began to blur.  With one last burst of wild, frenzied desperation, I threw myself forward, with the insane thought at the back of my mind that perhaps I could reach him.  

There would never be any reaching him.

He was gone.  I couldn't save him and I never _would_ be able to save him – even if I knew who he was, or how I could rescue him, stop the events around us.

Such things were hopeless.

The tearing wind whirled up around me then, tearing at my clothes, skin, and hair, whipping about me, and its deafening howl filled my ears and my head, and then I awoke, flying up in bed, gasping for breath as my heart pounded in my chest.  I felt ice cold and weak: oh, so very weak.  The calm, still darkness of my room was no longer comforting.  I no longer welcomed the shadows of sleep and dreams.  I pushed the covers off of myself, slid to the edge of the bed, and got up.  

Without even taking a moment to pause and wrap my robe about myself, I ran across the room, my feet feeling as fleet and nimble as those of a deer – a result of my extreme lightheadedness, perhaps, and fell against the door.  I wrenched it open and flew into the chamber beyond, passing through it like a whirlwind.  In less than a few breathless seconds, I had reached the door of that room.  Out into the wide, almost cavernous corridor I rushed, heedless of anything around myself.  And then I ran.

I ran and didn't stop.

The scenery of the darkened castle blurred into flashes and inky black and stark white and murky, indefinite grays.  I had no idea where I was.  

I didn't even care.  

Then I was outside, running down countless numbers of gardens paths, aimless and yet still desperate to keep going in my rapid flight.  Time seemed to slow: I felt as if I was looking for something, and I couldn't find it.  All I knew was my urgent need to keep running, to find what it was that I sought; I was vaguely aware of my surroundings, vaguely aware of the cool night air, and vaguely aware of the dull pain in my bare feet as they slapped against the marble pathway.   

I finally caught a sense of a presence nearby: the feeling that it brought to me was very much akin to the feeling that my father must have had when he had first caught sight of the warm, reassuring golden lights of this very castle, peeking through the trees in the far distance.  I didn't even have to think about who it was.

Dashing pell-mell off of the pathway and into the cold, ice-coated grass – the blanket of snowflakes that were on the ground coating the hem of my white nightgown – I flew to that one reassuring presence, the one thing that I knew was the object of my search, and fell into the strong, warm arms that opened for me, waiting for me to throw myself into their comfort.  I felt those arms close themselves about me then, felt the clawed and scaled hands come to rest against my heaving back, flattening against me.  

This_ is comfort,_ I thought.  This_ is life, your everything, your world. _ This_ is what you love._  

Once there, I stood where I was, never once moving away, as I let myself sob noiselessly, my hot tears falling from my eyes onto the cool white silk of his full-cut shirt, seeping into the cloth and warming against his skin.  I could hear his heartbeat; I could feel his breathing, steady and hot on top of my head as he rested his face there, cradling me in his embrace.  Finally, regaining my senses and my control of my breath, I said, whispering raggedly to him, "Beast, tell me there won't be any more darkness – tell me there won't be any more shadows!  Please, tell me!"

But he was silent, holding me close to him still, and I knew even then that he couldn't tell me what I wanted to hear, as much as we both wanted it to be true.  It was simply impossible.

_I couldn't save him and I never_ would _be able to save him – even if I knew who he was, or how I could rescue him, stop the events around us._

_Such things were hopeless._

How did I think that…?

But it was true.  

Such things really were hopeless.

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *


	18. Beast

Author's note:  And now comes the part of the story where I hope that you've appreciated all of the comic relief in the last few chapters – because in this one, everything becomes angsty again as we arrive at the point of Beauty and the Beast that we all know too well…when Beauty leaves…

Disclaimer/claimer:  I don't own Beauty and the Beast or any of the other fairy tales in here; I simply just take them apart and then put them back together again, and try to fit them all together into one story.  It's purely for fun and for the entertainment of others.  R&r and I will love you forever!  ^_^

Beast:

Life…and Love

I let her go.

After all the hours, the days and months, that I had spent with her, after all that we had seen and experienced together, after everything that had happened, I pushed it all away, freeing my mind from the blissful captivity that Arielle – my Beauty – had put me into, and let her go.  I made her leave.

There wasn't much else that I could have done.

On that cold, bleak morning as the sun began to rise, shining weak and thin, I watched her mount the horse that she would take on her journey – a conjured steed of pure white and silver, worthy of a princess – and ride away.  From me.  From my castle.  From all that was and could have been.

I didn't want to give in to that hope.

She would go on her quest: she would rescue the legendary Book of Hours, and return it to the faeries to which it rightfully belonged.  The world, _our worlds_, would be saved because of her.  And I would stay where I was, locked in my impenetrable fortress, and wait until death inevitably came to me.  I didn't know if it would come in the form of my vengeful archenemy or something else.  I really didn't care.  I had always known – there was no way that I could find 'the one': the only person who could free me from my curse.  If I were to go out into the world, it would only cause a disaster.  

I couldn't keep her with me either.  She deserved so much more…so much that I could never give her.  I could never tell her of my love, profess my devotion, my passion and desire for her to love me in return.  I could never be a husband to her, or anything else beyond that.  I refused to require her to love me back.  

I couldn't free myself, and I couldn't have her.

So I let her go.

As soon as she had left, I went into the castle and called every other living being within it to my presence in the cavernous throne room.  Seated in the one throne that was there, I looked at them all, letting my eyes travel across them slowly and carefully.  This would be the last time that I would ever see any of them.  Finally, after several moments of complete silence, I spoke, addressing them.

"Griff, Raethyr…all of you…" I began, trying to control the furious wavering of my voice.  I would not let them see my emotional turmoil now – if they knew that I was breaking up inside, they would never leave me, no matter how I tried to persuade them. "You are all herein released from your obligations to remain in this castle." I turned my head to face Griff, letting my eyes meet those of my old friend steadily, blankly. "I want you all to leave.  Today."

The silence that immediately followed my last word punctuated it like a deafening blast of thunder.  Each one of the Sprytes was perfectly still; the unceasing glow that they emitted dimming.  I felt a twist of guilt.  

_Funny – before she came, you'd never known such a thing.  Guilt._

"There isn't any reason for any of you to remain.  Beauty has gone, and I have taken measures to make certain that she does not return, as there will soon be nothing left to live in this castle.  You must all go.  Griff," I caught the furious, all-too-faery light in Griffith's eyes, and cut him off before he had a chance to interrupt me. "There isn't any reason to go on with this.  It's over.  Everything.  It's done."

_It's the end._

The Sprytes had no choice but to do my bidding.  They always had been bound by their willingness to serve me, even when my commands hadn't been exactly kind or easy to exact.  They were the first to leave.  Griff went after them, and for reasons that were more than obvious.  He didn't want to say good-bye, in the end of all things.  I didn't want to say good-bye either, but I knew that there was no other way.  I didn't want any of them – Griff, the Sprytes, or Beauty – to be about when Saruptal came to enact his ultimate vengeance.  

When they had all gone, I stood in the throne room, and realized that, for the first time in three hundred years, I was completely alone.

I had forgotten how ancient silence could make one feel.

During the last several months of Beauty's stay in the castle, I had attempted to make myself look more civilized.  I had worn more or less fashionable clothing, and had even taken to tying my unruly, spiky, thick mane back, away from my shoulders and face.  Now, with fingers that trembled, I undid the ties that held that mane in submission and let it fall all about my face and shoulders as I stared at my hands.  

She had been able to find beauty in those hands, I remembered.  She had seen something in me that even I had not been aware of – my soul.  I had nearly forgotten it, in my pride and bitterness.  I recalled our first meeting, the memory playing before me like some strange, faded performance.

"So…you are Beauty.  Welcome to my castle, milady."

"I have come, my lord, to fulfill the vow that my father made to you."

So many years, frozen in meaningless time – so many lies, deep in your mind…

"You are brave then…and honourable."

"I am not brave, milord."

So many emotions – buried now, beyond sight or recognition, forgotten, ignored – whirling through a mind that is imprisoned.  And yet still coldness…

"You came.  That is enough."

In silence we find our solace, our unspoken words…

"There is nothing here that will serve to harm you, milady; you must not be afraid.  As long as I am the master here, you are the mistress.  Everything is at your command." 

"Please…may I see you?"

"Beauty…"

But dare we face the sunlight, when it chances our lives, to change our existence?

"So, you wish to see my face?  You are brave for coming here, milady, but perhaps now we shall see how far that bravery can go!"

"If I need fear nothing here, why should your face terrify me?"

"Very well – so be it!" 

We walk a fine line between nightmares and love…

"So, Lady Beauty, now you have seen the Beast – are you satisfied?  Have you seen enough?  What – aren't you afraid?"

And yet all it can take is one word to make your world, your hate, fall down…

"No.  You told me not to be…and I don't see anything that I should fear.  It's you – your face, your voice, you.  I can't be afraid."

"I did…didn't I."

Can you believe it?

"All of this castle is yours to make use of, milady."

Can you find the strength within yourself?   

"My servants – whom, I do not doubt, have already made themselves quite available to you – will always be about when you need them.  They will obey you to your exact command."

"Milord?" 

"Beast – you will call me Beast.   I am not a lord."

The strength to give in?

"Beast."

"Why?"

Will you never know?

"It's lonely here.  I'm sorry.  You had a life."

_"It wasn't much of a life that I left."___

There's only one truth…

It's not a life that we live.  It's love.

*                       *                       *

Before she had left forever, I had presented her with a gift that would allow me to watch over her in this greatest trial of everything that she had learned.  

It was a necklace, but one unlike any she had ever seen before.  It was a pendant and chain, usual of all such ornaments.  The chain was silver, fine as the filaments that create a spider's web, and near the pendant it was adorned with many faceted crystals, all devoid of colour, sharp, and icy, and yet scintillating with every hue of the rainbow that could be imagined.  The pendant itself filled up her entire palm – the palm of her tiny, delicate, flawless hand – when she held it.  Its stone was a gigantic sapphire, bluer than the sea, bluer than any other sapphire that had ever existed.  It was set in silver, which had been engraved and molded into a graceful, scrawling shape.  

However, when danger was near, this necklace could save her life.

I could see her through the necklace's pendant gem, as I had used an enchantment of my own on it.  Wherever she went, I would be able to watch her and make certain that she was still safe.  Upon her arrival at Saruptal's mortal realm fortress, the stone would instantly turn from its original serene sapphire into a deep, blood red ruby.  Its chain would cease to be silver and would instead become gold, while its crystals would transform into black diamonds.  This would always serve to tell her when she was in danger.  If that danger intensified so that her life could be threatened, the very center of the enormous stone would begin to glow a bright, almost dazzling golden light.

It was the one last thing that I could do to keep her safe.

And in the end, her safety – Beauty herself – was all that mattered.

I thought of this distractedly as I went to my rooms to check on her progress.  It was evening – with the aid of magic in her travels, she would have reached the Wizards' Convention by that afternoon.  By now, she would just be going to the grand ball that would begin the gathering itself.  

I wondered what she would wear to disguise herself.  I called on the magic in her necklace to show me her image, looking into the stained-glass window that would always show me the world that I could no longer be a part of.  I felt curiously resigned to it, suddenly.  

Funny how falling in love with someone – and then realizing that the only thing you can do to give them the life that they deserve – can change your heart.  

_She had changed my heart._

The image swam, blurred, in the glass for a moment, and then it cleared and I saw a crystal-clear, all-too-real scene unfolding before me.  She was in the black marble hallways of Saruptal's mortal realm fortress, making her way down the floor, alone and searching for her destination.  She wore a fantastic, exotic gown in all shades of red, accented with saffron, gold, and black: the outline of a huge, embroidered rose surrounded by blood-red flames detailed on the flowing, voluminous train of her gown.  She approached the entrance to the ballroom as I watched then, and gave her name to the chamberlain who stood at attention there.

Larillana – a sorceress, the Burning Rose.

She looked so different from her real self.  I thought of her as a pure white rose, delicate and gentle and yet aloof in her cool, graceful beauty.  Now, she was resplendent and alluring and glamorous in her fiery disguise, the trailing black ribbons of the small, curving mask that she held elegantly in one hand curling about her like tendrils of smoke.  Here was a beauty that smoldered and captivated as only a true inferno could.

I kept watching as she entered the ballroom, becoming immediately surrounded by the hundreds of guests who were already present, each costumed and masked according to their stations and titles.  I saw that her necklace had long since reverted to gold, black diamonds, and ruby.  Saruptal obviously wasn't anywhere about.  She was playing her part of the fiery sorceress well.  Her demeanor reflected a cold, distant, and unimpressed take on the entire occasion, and it was with a disdaining and yet fascinating air that she dismissed each of the men who begged her to partner with them for a dance.  

Suddenly, the very center of the ruby pendant flashed a blinding yellow, causing the entire room around me to light.  I threw my hands up over my eyes, but not quite quickly enough.  I blinked rapidly, trying to banish the black flecks from my vision, and looked into the glass once more.  And, of course, there I beheld my old archenemy conversing with the maiden I loved as if he had nothing better to do.  

Before my heart had left me to give itself to her, I would have been surging with rage, with fury and uncontrollable blood lust.  Now, I could only look on, knowing that I had given her up, and I could no longer pretend that I had any control over her.  I could only send her my protection from a distance, and remember my undying love.

At length, Saruptal turned and walked back into the crowd, melding with it until it seemed as if he had disappeared.  Arielle stood motionless for a moment, and then she bent down to adjust the hem of her dress.  I knew that I was the only living creature who had noticed how her hands had shook as she did so.  

She stood straight again, and surveyed the crowd.  I realized what she was thinking – it was time.  She would now go to execute the most deadly part of her mission, while everyone was busy and no one was looking.  She turned to leave, and within seconds, she was drifting down hallway after hallway, climbing countless flights of stairs and turning any number of corners, passing through many doors, heading for the room where the Book was located.

Then, something very odd happened.

Something that even _I_ hadn't remotely expected.

Out from behind a huge, towering pillar stepped a male guest, garbed in a blue so dark that it was almost black.  He wore a mask that was clearly meant to imitate some sort of bird of prey – a falcon, perhaps.  Arielle stopped, her skin paling as her eyes became wide and dark.  The man stepped forward, slowly, his hands moving up from his sides to make a gesture of peace.  I instantly looked to Arielle's pendant.

I was shocked by what I saw.

The gold, black diamonds, and ruby had vanished, and in their places were the necklace's real materials of sapphire, crystal, and silver.  

Arielle also noticed this, and then she looked at the man with questions in her eyes.  Suddenly, two more guests also materialized from the darkness beneath the pillars: a man, and a woman.  This second man was tall, as was the first, and he had long, white-blond hair.  His plain mask and costume were all in black, accented with silver and green.  The woman wore a misty silver gown and a porcelain white mask; her hair was as long as Arielle's, but it was a midnight black.  The second man made a swift, fluidly graceful movement with both of his hands, and a soft, shimmering gold bubble seemed to surround them all.  Arielle stared at them all for a moment, and then she spoke.

"Who are you?"

"We're friends," replied the woman, who looked only a little bit older than Arielle.  I recognized her voice the instant she had answered.  Now things were getting very interesting indeed, if what I was seeing was true.

"We're here to help," added the man in black, who stood at her side, his arm intertwined with that of the woman.

"We've come to warn you," said the first man, coming to stand directly in front of her, his gray eyes looking steadily and knowingly into Arielle's white face. "There isn't much time left for you, beautiful one.  A great danger is coming, and you must escape it."

"How can I do this?" Arielle's voice was soft – trusting.

_Exactly – how can she do this?_ I asked them as well, mentally.

"If you wish to gain what you are seeking, go to it now and leave this place without a moment's delay.  We will make certain that your path is clear." 

The quiet, serious man with the white-blond hair in a warrior's style said this; his seemingly luminous, ice blue eyes also looked at her steadily and knowingly from behind the smooth black mask that he wore.  Arielle nodded, understanding.

"You will save us all…and _we_ will do likewise for _you_, if it is in our power," said the woman, gently; she then stepped forward and put both of her hands on Arielle's shoulders, turning her so that they faced one another.  I watched Arielle's eyes then and saw recognition flicker through them, and she smiled a bit.  "Your quest will not be in vain – you _will_ save him.  For if you cannot, no one else can."

_What?_

The woman leaned forward and gently kissed Arielle on the forehead, and then she stepped back to the side of her partner, who held his left hand up, palm outwards, in both blessing and farewell.  "May the Three be ever with you, little lost one," he said.

"Have no fear," joined in the other man. "We will protect you."

And then the glowing golden bubble evaporated, and Arielle was alone again.

She stood in front of the room in which the Book was kept.

*                       *                       *

That night, the Book of Hours was recovered for the White Realm, and Arielle escaped from Saruptal's fortress.  

If the fates were with us, as I prayed they were, Saruptal would forget all about his meeting with the incredibly beautiful Burning Rose.  Of course, Arielle – I knew – would turn her course straight towards the home, the castle, and I could not let her do that.  Saruptal could very possibly forget that it was the sorceress Larillana who had attended his convention and then left rather abruptly, at almost the same time that the Book had been stolen from him.  He might not make the connection between her and the theft.  But he would most definitely know who had been behind it, for who else knew that he had taken it?  To the White Realm, he still maintained the appearance and reputation of a powerful, albeit slightly fanatic wizard.  I was the only one who knew of his evilness.

So I sent her an enchanted message when I saw that she had stopped for the night in a village somewhere in the south of Éindor, which was near where Saruptal's palace was located, telling her that she should go to see her family.  She, I surmised, would most likely tell them that she could only stay for a week or so, and then she would make all efforts to return here.  I would most likely be dead by then.

As I thought of this, I was hardly surprised to find that the thought of death no longer bothered me.  It was just how things were destined to be.  I sat back in my chair, gazing at the now darkened window.  Its panes glittered at me weakly, as if they were trying to express their sympathy for my imminent fate.  I didn't care. 

Not now.

Then I had a thought that really _did_ bother me.

I sat bolt upright in my chair, shocked and benumbed realization going through me.  I wasn't the only one who knew about what Saruptal had become—

Griff!

How could I have thought that Griffith, my dearest friend of old, would ever simply let me handle things in a way that would bring about my own death, even when I could see no way of averting it?  Of course he would have gone back to the White Realm as soon as I had sent him away!  Of course he would have told the Lord Orandor and Lady Vahlada about the long-hidden truth of what had happened to the Book!

It all made sense.

That was why both of my immortal royal cousins, none other than Gavin and Elladine of the White Realm, and Elladine's husband Arin, the enchanter-king of the country of Lærelin, had appeared to Arielle at the Wizards' Convention!  They knew – _the entire White Realm knew_!  Griff had told the story, and now Saruptal had been recognized as the traitor that he was.  Each and every faery in the White Realm, I knew, would be out to seek their vengeance for what he had done.

But I wouldn't be around to see them claim it.

Justice would be done, however, and Arielle would be safe.  She would never know that I loved her, and I would never be free of my curse…but I had stopped caring.  

I looked down at my paws as they rested limply in my lap, and felt a grim smile curve the corners of my mouth.   Three centuries ago, I had been a different person.  

Now my story had been told.  

The story of the price paid for a rose, of a prince who was cursed to be a monster, and of the girl who changed his heart.  

And then it was all too much.  My love for Beauty overcame me and I wrapped both of my arms around myself, drawing into myself, and closed my eyes, waiting for the silent blackness to overwhelm me and break my mind.  

I felt tears welling in my eyes and felt them drop down onto the rough scales of my face.  I hadn't cried very much over the last three hundred years.  I hadn't really ever cried before in my life.  Now, I could remember only two times that I had known the feeling of tears.  The first time had been when Beauty had told me that she would go in my place to retrieve the Book of Hours.  She hadn't noticed because her eyes had been closed and her face had been almost entirely buried in my chest.  But I had cried.

I was crying now.

Slowly, I looked up at the enchanted window.

In its panes, seeming to have bloomed there, was the shape of a large, white rose, and on its petals, instead of dew, was a red teardrop, the colour of blood.

Red – white.  Blue, silver, gold, black, green.

_Oh fates._

And then I saw my hands…

_In their palms, the faintest tinge of pale peach was beginning to show…and when I looked in the mirror, I saw that my eyes had flecks of icy sapphire in them…shards of magic, in the invisible world of enchantment, were beginning to fall down all about me, cascading in a silent avalanche, as the tide of life began to turn…_

_Spells and curses were being broken._

"How is this possible?"

_You said it before yourself…_

_It's not life we live.  It's love._

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Author's note:  And here the update ends, for I much desire to know what you all think of things so far.  I told that our original Travelers of Enchantment would make a cameo appearance (and this one won't be the last, have no fear!)  But what is going on with the Beast, or Orlando, as we should probably now call him?  Things are beginning to change, now that he has come to the most painful and yet important part of his relationship with Arielle – he's realized just how much he loves her, and that love is beginning to have an effect on the spell that has bound him for so long…


	19. Beauty

Author's note:  Beauty has made it safely out of Saruptal's palace, and is on her way home – or is she?  Read and see…

**Lexi**:  I'm glad you enjoyed the rather large update, and yes, the repeat chapter in 17 and 18 was an error.  Stupid me, but hey, I fixed it.  ^_^  Anyways.  Nelisia and Tizirra are going to get their punishment soon, but that will be in the epilogue.  As things stand right now, I think we'll have about two more chapters from Beauty (this one being one of them) and then a sort of counter-point thing between both her and the Beast for the end, and after that, the epilogue.  So about four, if I'm calculating this right.  *wink*  As for the third part of the Travelers of Enchantment series, it will begin soon.  I'm already working on ideas for how to start it out…

**Fae Queen**:  Well, thank you _very_ much – your review was much appreciated, and I will definitely see to it that I read your story and review for you as well!  I love the BatB stories on ff.net, and try to read any that I see.

**Rosethorn**:  Okay, here it is – sorry I took so long, but things at my house during the holidays…  'Jeez-oh-pete' is the only phrase I can use to describe it.  ^_^  Anywho, here's another update for your reading pleasure, and I hope that Gavin is behaving for you.  Hehe.

**Everyone else**:  Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews – they seriously make my day, and it encourages me to know that there are actually people out there who read (and like!) my stuff.  Now enjoy!

Disclaimer/claimer:  Oh yes, I didn't come up with any of the original fairy tales featured in here, but I do own a lot of the characters (i.e. Arielle, Doran Laclarien, Nelisia, Tizirra, Elenette, Raethyr, Griff, Saruptal, Orlando, etc. etc. etc.)  It almost goes without saying…    

Beauty:

Revelation

_…the next morning, she found herself at her father's, and having rung a little bell, that was by her bedside, she saw the maid come, who, the moment she saw her, gave a loud shriek, at which the good man ran up stairs, and thought he should have died with joy to see his dear daughter again…_

It was twilight, and very cold; the air about me was hung thick with a chilling, clammy heaviness to it, and mist swathed the road ahead of my horse as it galloped headlong through the deep forest, flecks of dirt flying before its clipping hooves.  I leaned low over its neck, letting it have its head.  I was all-too-ready to reach my destination, and as the night drew on, the thought of getting out of the darkness was very welcome.

Beside me, just over my left shoulder, Elenette zipped along through the air, easily keeping pace with her former Spryte comrade, my current mount.  She looked like little more than a tiny little star, the sole source of light in the dark forest, and for once, she did not chatter merrily and breathlessly to me.  We both held a sense of urgency in our hearts, and we both knew it quite well.  We continued to race along, my dark evergreen cloak billowing out behind me in the wind as it rushed past, whipping against my clothing.  I had great need of haste at the moment.  

The night before, I had visited, very shortly, the magical gathering at the palace of the wizard Saruptal, and there I had met three of the surely most famous faery tale figures of all time, two of which were my personal hero and heroine!  I had also stolen from under the wizard's very nose the Book of Hours, which he had taken from the White Realm centuries before.  

And I had lived to tell about it.

_Which is _still_ amazing, and all the more reason why you should be concerned of only getting to somewhere you can hide and, above all, keep an exceedingly low profile, Arielle. _

I thought this grimly and urged my mount on faster, shifting in my seat and gripping the reins tighter after I had pulled my hood down further over my face, effectively obscuring my features.

After I had somehow managed to escape the wizard's castle without being marked, I had made my way to the nearest inn, some twenty-five miles away.  No one questioned my being there alone, which I credited to the fact that there were quite a few lone feminine travelers who frequented these parts of Éindor: healers, enchantresses, bards, and the sort.  I think I had come across as the third of those – a bard.  Fortunately, no one had asked me to sing.  I doubt my unnerved and frazzled mental state would have allowed me to give a very worthwhile performance then.

When I had reached my room, I had found a note awaiting me there, and Elenette – and her companion – had identified it as one from their master, the Beast.  I was very relieved to have heard from him, and desired very much to give him a report of my success so far, so I read the letter.  In it, he told me not to feel obligated to return to the castle directly.  "Go visit your father, and show him that he is not to fear for your welfare – that you are, above all else, safe," the letter had said.  

Well, really the _last_ thing I wanted to do right then was go back and make a lovely little house call to my former residence, especially if it meant a run-in with the eternal duo of torment and destruction, Nelisia and Tizirra Argonté-Laclarien.  My stepmother and stepsister.  But oh well, fine, I suppose I could do that, I had decided before putting out the light and going to bed.  I could do with a visit to my father, whom I still missed dearly in spite of the love that I had grown to have for my new home with the Beast.

Whom I missed now more than anything, with an intensity that I could not begin to describe in any way of the spoken language.

So now, here I was: cantering down the old road that I had taken oh-so-many times with my father, with my 'family' itself, drawing ever nearer to the farm house at the crossroads somewhere in the most remote forests of northern Éindor.  Finally, I came out of the trees, Elenette clearing them right behind me, and pulled my horse to a stop, casting about myself for a scan of the clearing.  Little more than a fourth of a mile down the road, lurking in the gloomy mist, were the faintest, most shadowy gray outlines of a wooden farmhouse – the house that had never been a home to me.

"All right."

I clenched my teeth, even more grim than before, and squared my shoulders resolutely.  What would Nelisia say to my current attire, and how would Tizirra react to my almost boyish garb?  Evergreen breeches, a full-cut woolen tunic of the same, knee-high brown leather boots, deerskin gloves, and a hooded cloak was hardly the mod for fashionable ladies of the Known World!  

I dug my heels into my horse's sides and it galloped forward again.  We were dashing into the front yard in less than a minute, and I rode right up to the nearest door before swiftly dismounting.  Then I frowned.

Even in the dusky shadows, I could clearly tell that the door directly in front of me was quite solidly boarded over.  In fact, now that I gave the house a more proper scrutiny, it looked as if it hadn't been lived in for some time.

"What on earth happened here?" I wondered aloud, to both Elenette, the other Spryte, and the listening air of the forest.  Elenette was silent for a moment before she came to hover over me, near my right shoulder.  

"Perhaps they have gone to live elsewhere in the mortal village?" she offered, but I shook my head, not seeing how that could have been the case.

"No.  My father had nowhere else to go but this place, after what happened with the ships and his merchant business." I had told her long before about my family and the reason why we had vacated Basilisk-Head and Casilimoor itself to come here. "No, I don't think that they would have left this house for another one here.  It just doesn't work out.  Where have they gone?"

Just then, almost as if in answer to my question, a gravelly, sharply accented Éindorean voice called out to us from the general vicinity of the farm gate.  I turned around swiftly, and Elenette swooped neatly out of sight in a split second, hiding herself very discreetly in a fold of my horse's saddlebag.

"If ye be lookin' for lodgings, m'lady, yer best bet is on the village down the road – nary about five miles yonder!"

A small wooden cart, drawn by a pair of donkeys and holding a single occupant: an elderly but spry little man who peered at me nearsightedly from atop his perch had rolled up to the gate.  I gestured my recognition of his presence and called back quickly, "Please, sir – where have the occupants of this house gone – the merchant Laclarien and his wife and daughter?"

He paused a moment, as if trying to pull the answer out of somewhere in the dusty corridors of dismissed knowledge, and finally replied, "Last I heard, the merchant had fallen quite ill, and so the entire family had repaired back to Basilisk-Head in Casilimoor, where they'd hailed from before they come here."

I had heard enough.  In a split second, I had remounted my horse and wheeled him about, sending him charging back onto the road.  I turned in the saddle as I prepared to depart, yelling back over my shoulder, "Thank you – and tell the people at the inn that they'll still have room for one more person tonight!"

*                       *                       *

"Which is the quickest route to the southernmost seaport in Éindor, Elenette?" I asked, some twenty minutes later as we galloped down the road, through the black night.  Elenette whizzed along for another moment before she replied, in her breathy, small voice, "Take the right fork at the junction near Maythar – the next split in the road you see!  What are we going to do now, Arielle?"

"We're going to make a visit to Basilisk-Head, my friend." I replied, concentrating on the road as the scenery flew by us. "My father is sick, and if I know anything at all about Nelisia and Tizirra, they're probably preparing right now to go out to some thick-headed dolt of a lord or marquis's cotillion and leave him at home to fend for himself!"  _How could I have been so stupid?  Why, oh why, hadn't I checked on the welfare of my father before now?  How could I have forgotten this?_

Elenette seemed to have sensed my self-condemning thoughts, for she told me, "It's not your fault that your father is unwell, Arielle."

"But it is my fault for not knowing!  I could have made him well by now!"

I wanted very much to berate myself now for this, but then my better senses kicked in and told me that this wouldn't help.  Right now, my father was sick, and I needed to get to him.  Then I could make him well again, see to it that he knew that I was alive and well, and very happy and content indeed, and return home – to my _true_ home.  So I urged my horse on, and we reached the crossroads near the town of Maythar within the hour.  I quickly developed a plan of action and told it to Elenette as we sped along.

"We'll have to ride to Trantharis, Elenette – it's a port-city in the southernmost point of Éindor, and one where we can easily get a place on a ship to take us to Basilisk-Head.  It's somewhere around two-hundred and fifty miles away, but we can stop tonight and then go the rest of the way tomorrow."

"But isn't the celebration which the mortals know as the Autumn Equinox to be held beginning on the morrow?"

I hauled my mount to a jarring stop, feeling a sick twisting feeling jab into my stomach as I remembered the specific holiday that she had just referred to.  "Blast it!" I snapped, disgusted with my poor planning, the world, and myself in general.  

The Autumn Equinox was one of the more largely celebrated holidays in the Known World, and if memory served me correctly, all roads would be jammed with any number of people going to their respective places of merriment.  There would be no way that I could ever thread my way through them in the amount of time that I would have desired to.  _Calm yourself, Arielle, and find another way,_ my better sense told me, winning over my being yet again.  

"We can cut across country, Elenette, and still reach it." I told her. 

We rode on again, and hours flew by like fleeting minutes, and soon I saw that the moon's progress now marked far past midnight.  We would have to find some place to rest for the night, I decided, and relayed this to Elenette.  However, we seemed to be in the archetypical, legendary 'middle of nowhere' right at that moment, and there was not a village, city, town, or human dwelling within sight.  Then—

"Look!" cried Elenette, zipping in front of me and setting the air around us ablaze with the intensification of her glow.  

I peered towards where she was gesturing in Sprytian movements and saw, deep in the moonlit valley far below the road that we stood upon, a small building, golden pinpricks of light showing through its miniscule windows.  

"Perhaps fate has not left our side after all," I commented, smiling dryly, and nudged my mount towards it.  

In a while, we reached the place, and I dismounted yet again, feeling my muscles begin to ache deeply.  I had been riding almost nonstop for far too many hours to count, and now I simply wanted to sit down and rest.  I gathered the reins of the long-suffering and extremely patient Spryte that had been transformed into my horse into one hand and led it along behind me as I skirted the house, coming around it to the front door.  

Within, I could see that all was well furnished, complete with a roaring fire, luxurious furniture – or what was luxurious to common folk such as myself, although it was really nothing compared to the Beast's castle – and a long, broad table loaded with heaps of delectable-looking food.  

I glanced at Elenette shortly, and then knocked firmly on the door.  I heard movement from within – movement that sounded suspiciously like the clopping of four middle-sized hooves on a tile floor.  

And then the door swung open, and I found myself face-to-face with a gray donkey, upon whose back perched a ginger tomcat, whose luminous green eyes gazed upon me delicately, questioningly.  I almost choked on my laughter!

_Ah, so it is you, gray-one!_ I said to the donkey.  _Is it possible that I should meet with you again – and in such a place?_

_Fair lady enchantress!_ the donkey's surprise reply was.  _It is you!  Come in, come in!  My friends have long heard tell of your inspiration in my life – enter, and join us!_

He stood aside and I walked in, my Sprytes following behind me: both in their original forms now, for I had disenchanted the horse.  The donkey pushed the door closed with its head and then clip-clopped over to stand in front of me, making various little noises in its throat that I took to be some sort of animal summons to a sleek, gray-brown hound and a richly plumed and jewel-toned rooster, who rose from their places in front of the fire.  The cat hopped down off of the donkey's back as he spoke, addressing them all.

_Friends, this is a special night!  Tonight, the fair enchantress who sent me on the beginning of the quest that led us all here has come, and she is our guest!    _

And then, after they had urged me over to the table and had me load up a plate of the absolutely scrumptious steaming hot food that was there, they all proceeded to tell me of the adventure that brought them all to the wonderful house.  Once the donkey had left me, he met up with the dog, and then the cat, and then the rooster, and, together, they had decided to go to the town of Bremin to become musicians.  However, on their way, they had stopped for the night at this house, only to find that it was inhabited by a band of fearsome robbers!  

Not to be defeated by this, the four had come up with a plan to frighten the bandits away.  The donkey stood before a window, placing his hooves on its ledge, the dog climb on his back, the cat stood on the dog's back, and the rooster perched on top of them all.  Then, they began to sing – and I could only imagine the noise that they had made!  The robbers had fled, leaving their plundered wealth and marvelous feast behind, and the animals had taken possession of the house in their wake.  Then, when the ousted inhabitants of the house had tried to come back and re-take the place, the animals had frightened them off once again.  Now they all lived quite happily there.

And since I had been the reason for all of this, they said, they would have me stay nowhere but here for the night.  So I very willingly – and gratefully – assented.  Before I went to sleep, curled up in a plush blanket on the couch before the fireplace, I heard Elenette's voice in my ear.  

"Why don't you use your wishes to take us to Casilimoor, Arielle?"

Wishes.  I had told her about the Golden Genie before, but…hmm.  I hadn't thought of that before.

"Perhaps I will, Elenette." I replied, gazing at the flickering golden flames, which reminded me vaguely of the shade of a certain pair of dragon-like eyes… "I'm not sure if they will be valid, since I don't have the Genie's book with me with now." I suppressed a yawn, and pulled the blanket closer about my chin, snuggling into it as drowsiness dropped down over me, softly and soothingly. "But…maybe…maybe I will…perhaps I will…perhaps…"

And then I slept.

_Goodnight, Beast.  I miss you so…I'll be home soon.  _

_Goodnight, my beautiful Beast._

"_Beauty…_"

*                       *                       *


	20. Beauty

Author's note:  Beauty continues her narration of the events following her mission to the wizards' gathering, and things are starting to escalate – the end is near…

Disclaimer/claimer:  I think we all know which things belong to me and which don't, so let us simply dispense with these novelties and commence with this tale, my rendition of Beauty and the Beast.

The very next morning, I bade goodbye to the 'Bremin Town Musicians' and rode off on my re-transformed Sprytian horse, Elenette whizzing along with us.  But I wasn't planning on riding all the way to Trantharis: oh no, I had altered my scheme drastically now.  I needed to get to Casilimoor quickly, and I would not waste time traveling!  So we rode a little way off from the house, and then I reined us in to a stop.  I looked at Elenette for a moment, raising my eyebrows and taking a deep breath.  

"Here goes nothing." I said, and even though the phrase seemed despicably cliché, nothing at that moment could have been better suited to the situation.  I closed my eyes and turned my head up towards the cloudy gray skies, hoping and praying for the best, as I said softly, "I wish that we three – Elenette, this Spryte, and me – were in Casilimoor, in Basilisk-Head, with my father."

There was a peculiar whooshing sound, like the sound of a violent autumn wind blowing through the branches of trees filled with dried leaves, all-too-familiar, and something very much like that exact thing swirled around me, tearing as my hair, tunic, and cloak.  I felt as if I was about to be knocked off of my mount, but kept my eyes closed and held on to the reins for dear life, hoping that I would keep my seat.  Then, all at once, it stopped, and I felt that the air around me was close and warm, as if it was one of the first days of spring, and I sensed life pulsing all about me: people, and animals, and there were buildings and cobblestone streets and flying buttresses and market stalls—

And I was back in Casilimoor!

My eyes flew open and I stared around myself in astonishment.  I stood in the middle of a narrow, still road: a passageway placed between two large, fashionable houses, which towered massively above me, and on either side of both my shoulders, there hovered two tiny globes of light that looked like stars, my Sprytes.  I was back in Casilimoor.  My wish had been granted.  

But I took no more time to ponder on this.  I knew what I was here to do – what I needed to do.  So I grimly turned on one booted heel and set off down the alley, taking long, purposeful strides, never mind that I seemed quite tomboyish at the moment indeed.  

When I rounded the corner, I saw a plaque on the wall at my side: golden, and proclaiming that this was the house of Master Doran Laclarien.  Without a moment's pause, I went right to its door, put my hand on its knob, and briskly entered the house, my cloak whooshing and swirling behind me.  Elenette and her companion followed easily, whizzing along in my wake.  

I ran up the winding staircase that led out of the dark foyer room that I had just entered from the street and came into a large drawing room of sorts, which – from what I could hear – was a-flurry with activity.  

My every sense raging with indignation, concern, and even rage, I thrust aside the heavy evergreen velvet curtains that separated this room from the stairwell and glared ahead of myself.  

A dignified, older-looking manservant with a powdered wig and starched black dress clothing spotted me there first, and his face instantly registered both question and surprise.  Next after him, a matronly maidservant saw me and stopped her bustling progress across the room, causing a tittery, pale young serving girl to bump up against her, and then she also saw me standing in the doorway.  

I smiled coolly, caustically – cruelly, almost.  I could only imagine the shock they were feeling upon seeing such a strange personage in this apparently rather opulent home: a vision of a wizard-like woman with long, blonde hair flying out of its waist-length braid, face pale and stony with glaring eyes of blue, garbed in a bard's attire of green wool.

However, their reactions gave me nowhere near the strange satisfaction as those of the next two people who caught sight of me.

Nelisia and Tizirra, my stepmother and stepsister who had so long held me in enmity, were just entering the room, velvet and ermine and gold and diamonds flung all about them as expensive, exotic-smelling perfume flowed in the air about them.  

I stood where I was and let my eyes settle on them.  Nelisia saw me, enacted what is known as a 'double-take', and then stopped dead, looking paralyzed and about to choke on some invisible inhibition to her breathing passages, her face going stark white underneath its powder.  

Tizirra reacted differently from her mother: she stopped as well, but she did not look as if she had seen a spirit arisen from the grave.  Her eyes narrowed and flashed as she peered at me, seeming as if she was trying to decide whether what she was seeing was reality or not.  She looked, as I remembered quite well, like a cat that was about to pounce, claws unsheathed and ready to commence a battle.

"Good afternoon, Baroness, Tizirra." I said, coolly. "Going to a cotillion, I presume?"

That loosened Nelisia's tongue.  She ceased to be a living statue and sank backwards, away from me, still staring at me as if she could believe her eyes.  "Beauty – _Arielle_?" She said my real name hastily, as if she hadn't meant to say the oh-so-abominable nickname.  Tizirra just kept on staring.

I didn't release either of them from my gaze.

"Where is my father?"

Tizirra stepped forward, coming at me, hissing incredulously, "Arielle – how did you get here?  Why aren't you dead, torn apart by that Beast?"

"It's a long story." I replied, still imperturbably.  I couldn't believe the words that I heard coming out of my own mouth – couldn't believe my very own actions.  Who was doing this?  I couldn't be handling this scenario: not me!  It seemed as if someone else – someone calculating, someone aloof and entirely confident of herself, someone powerful to an inestimable degree – had taken over my entire being.  And yet…this was _I_.  

I gestured with my head, sharply, to a velvet-upholstered bench that had been placed up against the wall nearby, and said, "Sit."

A tense, quivering moment fraught with tight, simmering emotions of fear, defiance, and anger passed by, and then Nelisia gathered her skirts in both of her hands and blew over to the bench, sitting quickly.  I repeated the movement of my head for Tizirra, staring her straight in the eyes.  

"Please join her, sister mine."

She obeyed, but very reluctantly.  I instantly saw that she already suspected something of the change in me – of the magic and enchantment that I had learned, the new side of myself.  But that didn't really matter right now.  I stepped into the room, taking dead center of the gleaming marble floor, and eyed the pair for a moment before I commanded the servants, without taking my gaze off of either of the two finely-dressed ladies in front of me, "Please go, and close the doors behind you."

I heard their footsteps click off across the floor, and then a moment later, the doors slid shut.  Then, and only then, did I address my companions.

"Where is my father?"

The tone in my voice was dreadful: stern and ominous and powerful, compelling in a way that I hadn't imagined that it could be.  Nelisia started and raised her eyes from the floor to me.  I noticed that her ringed fingers were twisting her deep crimson velvet skirts agitatedly in her lap.  Gently, I began to tap my booted foot on the floor, folding my arms over my chest and waiting.  Finally, Tizirra bolted up from her seat and burst out at me, "He's up in his blasted room – sick!  There, is _that_ good enough of an answer for you?  _Now_ will you let us go?"

"How long has he been sick?"

My question was pointed as a dagger's tip.

"Arielle, this isn't the time for this," Nelisia began, and I saw that her momentary fear had begun to slide away, replaced by the familiar cat-like gleam that was so flawlessly duplicated in her daughter's features. "We _are_ going to be rather late now, you know—"

I laughed, coldly and scornfully.

"Oh yes, of course – _late_!" I took a few pacing steps to the side, casually and almost contemplatively.  Then I rounded on them, eyes blazing and muscles taut. 

"You go to your party, and enjoy yourselves.  But remember this, Baroness," I told her, letting my voice become hard and measured and even as I held her eyes relentlessly in mine, "You will not go anywhere near my father.  You, and your daughter, will stay away from him.  You will_ not _gonearhim."

I punctuated each of the words in that last sentence firmly and authoritatively.  Then I turned around and quickly left the room, finding my way to the door that I knew would lead up into the further regions of the house, and to my father.  Elenette and her companion reappeared, having hidden themselves behind the flames of a few of the candles that had been placed in brass sconces about the drawing room, and they lit the dark staircase as I ran up it.  

Within moments, I had reached the sick man's room, and I burst in without ceremony, running to the bedside.  My father lay stretched out there, pale and emaciated and weak looking.  I felt a whimpering cry burst out of me and I fell to my knees beside the bed, grabbing his limp hand in mine and holding it to me.  

"Papa!" I cried, tears forming out of nowhere and beginning to course in torrents down my cheeks.  

How could I have done this?  I had neglected my father, the only person besides the Beast to ever show me any sort of love or kindness – and now he was sick and alone!  I held his hand close to me, clinging to it as if it was the only thing that bound him to life, and wept then, absolutely and utterly devastated with this turn of events.  My entire enchantress's commanding power flowed out of me, leaving me a broken and terrified shell of a child who was paralyzed with fear at seeing her father in such a state.

But tears weren't going to help me – I knew how to save him now.  I had the power to bring him back, and I would.  Silently rallying all of my strengths, I scrubbed the tears off of my face with the back of my hand, and then I concentrated.

_From the depths I call you back,_

_Give now to you what you did lack –_

_Sickness, be gone; leave this soul,_

_Return to the darkness and let him be whole!_

There was a strange sensation in my fingertips then, a feeling like something was being pulled ever-so-carefully and slowly out of my being, and suddenly, my father breathed in deeply and his eyes fluttered open, coming to rest on my face dazedly.  I gazed at him, wondering if he would recognize me after his long, terrible illness.  

He did.

*                       *                       *

I stayed there in Basilisk-Head for a week after my father's recovery, making sure that he recovered fully from his illness and that my stepmother and sister stayed safely away from him.  My anger towards them slowly lessened and transformed instead into mere hurt, which was seldom remembered but bitter and deep when I did think of it.  I didn't see much of them, however, and so my father and I were left to spend the week quite happily together.  

I found out that it had indeed been Nelisia and Tizirra's idea to return to Casilimoor, after I had left, and that my father was now running a small business in the repair of household objects such as clocks, music boxes, and other odd items.  He was doing well in this, but the income that he brought in was not half what was needed to satisfy the demands of the Baroness and her daughter.  But now I was home, he said, and they could do anything they liked – it didn't matter to him anymore.

We did not speak of the Beast or my life with him all that week; every time that Papa came close to asking about it, I gently forbore to tell him anything.  I didn't want to tell him that I was actually very happy there, that my life was utterly content and that the Beast was really not the monster that he remembered, until I was certain that he could indeed accept such a revelation.

Then, late one afternoon, as we walked arm in arm along the high cliffs that composed the edge of the large, sprawling emerald lawn of the Laclarien family home in Basilisk-Head, Papa finally asked the question that I had been long expecting. 

"Arielle, my sweetest – you know that I cherish you very highly, do you not?" he asked, turning from his contemplation of the setting sun – which had set the sky aflame with a myriad of bright, exotic colours: fuchsia, tangerine, gold, and scarlet, and more – to look at me. "You know that I love you more than life itself?"

I regarded him for a moment, quietly, before replying.

"Yes, Papa.  You _know_ I do."

"Then…" he said, slowly and thoughtfully, but tenderly, "if this is so, I want you to tell me the truth – the absolute, unguarded truth, and nothing less." 

I knew very well what was coming as he paused and looked at me steadily, his eyes gazing, straight and unwavering, into mine.

"Arielle…what is it like – in that castle…with the Beast?"

Silence fell over us, and I wound my arm about his again, and we walked on.  I was without words for several long moments as I considered my answer.  I had been trying to decide how I would tell him the truth all during my visit, and now that I was faced with the actual question – the answer to which my father desired nothing less than the absolute truth…  

Finally, I rallied my mental strengths and looked up, meeting his gaze calmly.

"My life there…is very good." I said, softly. "I am treated as if I were a princess, and I have everything that I could ever want."

This was not enough.

"And what of him?  What of the Beast?"

_Oh fates, I don't want to say this!_

_But I must._

"He is…very kind to me.  I could not ask for a better friend." I paused and looked off into the distance, my mind flying back to the castle that I now knew as my home, to the memories of the Beast and everything about him.

_About us._

"He isn't the monster that you met, Papa.  He was very cold and guarded when I first came, even angry, perhaps…but something had happened to him, Papa…I don't know what, but something, and it was what made him so unkind and unfeeling…but now…now he's _different_."

"He has changed."

I nodded, feeling miserable.  I must seem like such a traitor to him: I had learned to accept – to forgive – the monster that had threatened my father's life and then forced me to live as a prisoner in a place where I would never see another human again.  And now I must tell my father that I could not stay here with him, that I must instead return.  Could there be any worse sort of betrayal?  I hardly knew!  

But then, Papa's arm came around my shoulders and he stopped me, turning me towards him, and he tipped my chin backwards with one finger, looking into my eyes.

"Arielle, dearest, please – I can see the conflict in your eyes, the tears which threaten to fall.  Don't do this to yourself.  Look at me, and tell me – are you happy with this Beast?"

I nodded, choking on a sob, and Papa drew me into his arms, tenderly holding me close as he stroked my hair and back.  "Then it's all right – everything is fine," he said. "You have found your happiness, your joy, and even if I cannot understand how or why, I must believe you and accept what you tell me, and give you my blessing."

Then he paused and regarded me thoughtfully.  

"But if he has changed at all, my dear, it must be because of _you_."

*                       *                       *

_I know you are out there…where is it, where have you taken it?  You cannot hide forever…I will find you…_

_GIVE IT BACK!_

I awoke screaming.

Whirling around in bed, I looked to the table nearby, upon which the Book of Hours rested: a white stream of pale moonlight falling down upon its leather covers from the window above.  Its golden bindings seemed to glow eerily.

Then a shadow passed across the window: something flickered darkly outside in the night air, and I threw myself forwards, grabbing the Book and holding it against my heaving chest as I stared out that window with wide eyes.

Something – someone – was coming for the Book.

_Where are you?  You can't hide from me…_

_I'm going to get you…_

"Try."_   
  
_

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Author's note:  The Book of Hours has been taken from its thieving keeper, Arielle is far from her home dealing with an evil stepmother and stepsister, and what on earth is going on with the Beast?  Next update to come soon – please r&r !  @à--- for all those who have commented so far.  


	21. Beauty and the Beast

Author's note: Left you all hanging, did I?  Well…  ^_^ That's what the most climatic portions of books do, but I am not quite the type to go in for all-out support of driving my readers mad, so here it is: the final battle between the forces of good and evil in this, my tale of Beauty and the Beast!  (And quite a few other fairy tales, I must say…)

**snowylove-angel** – Thank you so much for your very kind review, and I am glad that you have enjoyed the story so far.  I hope that you also like this newest update as much as you have the rest of the tale, and yes, you spelled ballistic right.  *winks* I love that word, don't you?  ^_^

**Rosethorn** – Well if you don't post your version of BatB, maybe perhaps perchance possibly would you consider letting *me* read it?  (And as if my treatment of poor Beast/Orlando hasn't been bad enough…though I could see worser types of 'serious abuse'…)  WOW!  Gavin, behaving?  Amazing!  How on earth did you manage to do that?  Ella and Arin are really curious, as is Orandor…

**Bil** – Thank you also for your nice review; it always makes me happy to know that someone has enjoyed what I write.  (And I definitely prefer long chapters as well myself!)  ^_*

**LadyElf** – WHEEE!  I like that name – I use one like it sometimes, only with numbers attached.  Pray tell, what kind of Elves do you prefer?  My personal favs are those of the great J.R.R. Tolkien…but anyways, thank you also for your review and I am very happy to know that you have enjoyed my fic so far.  And have no fear – love and faeries are just about my favorite things to write about, and these are both featured quite prominently in the series that My Beauty, My Beast is going to be featured in.  I am a fairy tales fanatic, you see…  ^_^ Thank you also for those book suggestions you gave to me – I have been looking for some good happy-ending fantasy to read for a while, and the works that you named sound very interesting indeed.  As for right now, I've just been pretty much a Tolkienite and an occasional Robin McKinley follower, so your input is highly valued!

**And everybody else**:  Let's see – thank you again for your reviews and comments, and for being so nice!  All of your reviews have been just so lovely, and I am overjoyed to know that you've found pleasure in reading this story.  It makes it all worthwhile.  Now, on with the fic and please beware of 'fluffiness' towards the end.   

Disclaimer/claimer: I don't own the original fairy tales; I just write about them.  Faeries, however, I do own, so don't go hurting them or kidnapping them from me because I would miss them all too much and would have to cry at night for them.  (J/k, but I can't guarantee to you that you'll come out unscathed if you try to abduct people like Arin, Ella, Gavin, 'Lando, or Arielle; just a warning…)

Beauty and the Beast:

The End of the Enchantment

Night.

All was silent in the Laclarien mansion in Basilisk-Head, as the moon and stars kept their serene, perpetual watch over all below them.  No one was at home; they had all gone to an opera being shown somewhere in the city, in spite of any arguments that might have been given.  The rooms within the place were dark, full of inky shadows, and the air held a sort of breathless, heavy presentiment that bespoke of the very walls themselves waiting, anticipating, a truly terrifying turn of events.

This night would hold just that.

A giant, fateful stage had been set; the scenery was in place, the players awaiting their cue in the wings of an invisible theater.

The final chapter in the story of Beauty and her Beast was about to begin.

*                       *                       *

A long, powerful dark shadow approached the front door of the Laclarien home, wraith-like fingers outstretched towards its brass handle from beneath a filmy gray-black cloak that fluttered even at the touch of the smallest night breeze.  Then, the figure that the fingers belonged to stopped, pausing, as if in second thought…and slowly moved away from the door, drifting into the shadows at the side of the house, where the street met the alley.  

A window – cracked slightly open to allow the cool, early fall air into the home.  A slight touch, a softly spoken word, a burst of magic.  

With only the slightest sound of the window itself sliding against its wooden frame, it glided open: slowly, ever so slowly.  

The figure cast about itself, hooded head moving with eerie serenity, and then in through the heavy, scarlet velvet curtains it went, leaving no trace of its presence about in the alley behind itself.  It came to stand at its full height within the room, once more casting about itself, looking around the quiet room.  No one was here: no one knew of its presence, of course.

_Not yet._

Night drifted on: the moon continued her arc across the sky, her children – the stars – continuing to keep their watch over the darkened city.  The Laclarien household was still silent, and nothing moved within it.  No sound came forth.

A second figure approached.  

This one was smaller than the first, and was garbed in a flowing, deep purple cloak and hood: a purple so dark that it was nearly black.  It took the exact same course as its predecessor, creeping in through the open window without a single noise to betray its movements.  

Once it was inside the room, it drew itself up to its full height, then exhaled, seeming to relax.  A hand – upon the fourth finger of which was worn a large, ornate ring with a band of gold and a fascinating, glimmering stone of fine sapphire – reached up from beneath the cloak and removed the hood that obscured the figure's features.  

This revealed the face of a seemingly middle-aged man, with sharp, almost hawk-like features that the moonlight fiercely accentuated: a man with dark eyes and dark hair, and a mustache and goatee, the last three of which were streaked with shocking gold highlights.  From his person seemed to emanate a very obvious power, which revealed one thing about just what he really was…

_This man was a wizard._

He obviously knew that no one was about the house, as he went straight to work.  After he had murmured a few soft words, he extended his hands – palms outward – towards the rest of the room, the house as a whole, and a strange, smoke-like green haze came forth from his fingertips.  It whirled about the room, curling around corners and shooting under closed doors.  Yes, this was magic, and yes, it was looking for something.

The wizard should have been looking out for something himself.

For he, as the reader well knows, was not _alone_ in the house.

A large, hulking shape sat in a chair, in a dark corner behind him, watching his every move…_with eyes that had begun to glow an unearthly, deadly blood red_.

The wizard stopped, feeling a tremor in the air about him.  He stiffened.

Finally, he had realized that someone was there.

A voice.

"You're rather late," a deep, yet somehow tenor voice said. "I've been here for hours now."

The wizard whirled around in surprise.

And I sat forward in my seat, leaning towards him but allowing my features to remain deeply hidden in the shadows.  

I laughed then: softly, mockingly, a very dangerous edge to the sound, and said, condescendingly, as an adult would to a very young, very naïve child, "You didn't actually think that you could just get away with it, did you?  And now every faery in the White Realm is on your case, and it won't be much longer before you find yourself trapped in the web that you'd spun with your _very own hands_."  I deliberately, coldly, punctuated each of those last three words.

Saruptal, my age-old enemy, narrowed his eyes, but he paled.

"You took the Book."

I rose to my feet, slowly, and he took a step back.  

"Correct." I said, my voice a mere murmur.  I regarded him thoughtfully. "And yet – yet my hunger for revenge still isn't satiated.  Not yet.  The Book is now in a place where you can never again reach it, not even with the aid of traitors.  You're ruined – all is lost, and I still have yet to take your life…"

Saruptal sneered in my general direction, still backing up as I advanced on him.  "Go ahead and kill me, faery bratling," he spat, venomously, although he kept his voice low so that it would not carry throughout the house, "But know that I have had the Book of Hours these three hundred years, and I have learned _well_ how to wield it.  It wouldn't take much to alter your spell just enough to keep you in your current hideous form for all of eternity!"

His words caused my anger to intensify tenfold, becoming a burning, violent fire within me, and I growled.  With one gesture, I caused every candle in the room to light – allowing him to see me fully for the first time since he had placed me under his foul curse.  On that night, three centuries before, Saruptal had indeed cursed me and stood by as the agony of my terrible transformation had begun – but he hadn't stayed for long.  He hadn't seen the complete product of his spell then.

But now it stood before him.

Less than four feet away, looming in scarcely contained menace and complete black fury, was the faery that he had turned into a ravening monster.

The Beast.

"You know," I said, coldly, "I really wouldn't care.  If I have to look like this, so be it – as long as I vanquish you in the _bloodiest_ manner.  And if I have to die here and now, as a result of this, I will…but if I go down, I am taking _you_ with me, wizard."

He made a strangled sound of rage, for he knew well by now that, no matter what he did to me, I wouldn't be affected by it.  I no longer cared about being under his curse, and I wouldn't cease to live until I had seen his death: until I had killed him.  His hands rose from his sides, a furious red light beginning to light in his palms, but I was ready for him.  I formed my own blast of counter magic, and we faced each other—

Suddenly, another voice cried out, from behind the closed door of the room that we stood within – a small, feminine voice that reminded me of rose petals and crystal raindrops and sunlight, a young girl's voice…

"_Noooo_!"

The door flew open.  I had just enough time to see who it was – as if I had even needed to – before a slight but overwhelmingly desperate weight hit me, somehow managing to move me to the side and out of harm's way just as Saruptal's wildly aimed blast of magic came at me.  We both turned, the fracas nearly forgotten in our shock, to gape at the intruder—

Arielle: dressed for the opera, her beautiful face pale, her eyes wide and dark, her hair and delicate rose velvet gown mussed and flying!  She gazed up at me, breathless, her small hands clutching my arm, and we both gaped at her like idiots.  

Then, in the next split second, three more figures barreled into the room, all shouting and shrieking and moving about at once, descending upon us like a cloud of maddened bats.  Her family – her father, the merchant, and her stepsister and stepmother!  All were here, in this room with me and my archenemy and the maiden I loved more than life itself!  If the situation hadn't been so awful, so desperate, I might have been tempted to stop right where I was and yank my mane in frustration – what were they _doing_ here?

Arielle's stepmother and stepsister were furious with her for something, and they were both scrambling like sewer rats to get at her, nails and grabbing hands flying, both gabbling more awfully than a flock of geese.  

Her father, poor man, was trying to pull them off of her, but then his efforts seemed no longer needed when the Baroness Nelisia caught sight of _me_.  

"_Three preserve us_!"

And she let off a truly bloodcurdling scream that made me wince sharply, and fell backwards, covering her face with her hands.  Again, if the situation hadn't been so desperate, I might have been tempted to give her a little of her own medicine – the kind that she had so willingly pitched out onto Arielle all those years – but current hard reality prevented that.  I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that Saruptal was preparing to attack again, and my thoughts instantly reverted to one thing: Beauty's safety.  I pulled away, yanking myself out of the cluster of arguing people, and turned to face him.

"Beast!"

Arielle flung out her hand towards me, and I realized that she didn't want me to fight him without her – alone.  But I had to!  I shook my head, simultaneously opening an enchanted portal to take both Saruptal and me back to my castle, away from the mortal world and all of the risks that being in it held for us.

"Arielle, _no_!"

I stepped into the portal, lassoing the wizard with my magic and dragging him into it with me – but then Arielle ran towards me, and before I could stop her, she had grabbed onto my hand!

_NOOOOO!_

*                       *                       *

The blinding white light of the magic portal that the Beast had opened lasted only for a fleeting second, and then, with a burst of energy, it was gone and I felt myself landing on some soft, bouncy surface.  Instantly, I sat up.  

I was back in my own room at his castle.  All of the windows were open, and around me were the dead brown petals and leaves of the once-magnificent roses that had covered the castle.  A cold, searing wind blew about the room, ripping through my light gown and causing my teeth to chatter uncontrollably.  

_What has happened here?_ was all that passed through my mind, and then I was leaping off of the bed and running for the door.

He hadn't wanted me to be present for his final confrontation with the wizard.  After that night when I had heard that strange, menacing voice within my head, through the ether of my sleep, I had known that the wizard Saruptal was searching for the Book, and that it wouldn't take long before his tracing spells found me.  I had hidden the Book, but no powers of magic and enchantment in the world would keep it safe for long before he came to find it, aided by his now-enhanced wizard's knowledge.  

The Beast had known that, and so he had come to face the evil wizard instead – to save me!  I had expected this.  I knew my Beast – and I wouldn't let him face his enemy alone.  For a very long time now, we had been each other's companions and safeguards, each other's _rescuers_, through many trials and adventures.  I wasn't about to let him be struck down in one-on-one combat with his greatest enemy. 

I would fight with him, and if it were my destiny, I would die with him.

Even if he didn't want me to.

I flew through the door of my chambers and ran through the castle, down countless halls, corridors, rooms, and flight of stairs, all the while calling to my Beast, hoping vainly that he would hear me and respond before the wizard did!  I dashed down the grand staircase that fronted the ballroom, the one in which we had first danced together, my slippers clattering pell-mell against the marble steps as I tried to keep my balance.  My thoughts were tumbling over one another.  

What if I didn't find him?  What if Saruptal met up with him before I did, and what if I arrived on the scene only moments too late?  What if I couldn't save him—

Suddenly, a hand swung down through the air in front of me, coming to snatch a-hold of my flying hair with a grip of iron!  

I shrieked at the abrupt pain and surprise, and found myself yanked roughly backwards.  My spine came up against the hard plain of someone's chest and the hand holding my hair pulled again, forcing me to turn my head up and to the side.  As I gazed up through my stinging tears of pain and defeat, for I knew who had caught me, I saw the dark eyes of our common enemy glaring down into mine.

"_You_!" he snarled, grabbing my other hand by the wrist and wrenching it up behind me, twisting it cruelly until I cried out again. "I know you – you're that little wench who was at the wizards' gathering: Larillana, the Burning Rose!  _You_ took the Book!"

I forced my mind to concentrate on gathering my powers, trying to rally my strengths in order to blast some of my own magic at him, but then he somehow pulled it out of me, into his own hands – and reflected it back on me!  A great, fiery pain ripped through me, entering at my fingertips and shooting up my arms, then down through the rest of my body, until I screamed from the sheer agony of it all.  

With a feral growl, he suddenly let go and threw me to the ground.  I managed to land without hitting my head and then struggled up onto my hands and knees, my hair coming out of the arrangement that I had put it into for the opera that night and falling in streams about my shoulders, pooling on the dusty marble floor.

"You little _idiot_!" Saruptal shouted at me. "It doesn't matter whether I have the Book or not now!  I already know its spells – neither you, nor your fey bratling lover, nor _anyone else_ can defeat me!"

I breathed in, trying to steady myself, to banish the memory of pain from my mind, and then spoke.

"You think so?" My voice was a pathetic rasp. "You'll beg to differ when every single faery of the White Realm comes hurdling through this very castle's roof, seeking vengeance for a notorious wrong done to them over three hundred years ago!  Three centuries…do you think that they've just been waiting for you to attack them all this time?  Their combined power is infinitely more awesome than a slimy, revolting reptile of a despicable wizard like you can imagine!"

I didn't know if what I was saying was actually true.  Was I bluffing then, trying to frighten him into believing that his attack was all for naught?  Perhaps.  But for all I knew, the White Realm faeries really _did_ know that he had taken their Book of Hours, and they were only waiting for the right time to exact their rightful vendetta upon him.  It was worth a try – and I would be _blasted_ before I just simply gave up and let him destroy this place, my Beast, and me myself without putting up a fight of my own!

My words didn't cow him – they only made him angrier.

"_Shut up_!" he shrieked.

But I wouldn't be shut up.  I wasn't finished yet.

"Nothing you can do will stop them – _us_!"

I was faery.  I was one of them.  This wasn't just myself and my Beast that I was battling for – it was my world.  _My_ people.

Saruptal turned a mocking smile down on me.  "You think so?" he asked, tauntingly.  Then, his sneer became a deadly, almost animal snarl and he hissed, "Well, you won't live to find out!"

Another blast of his magic came at me and I braced for the pain, which then roared through me as never before, and all I could do was collapse onto the cold, hard marble and scream.  But suddenly I heard another scream – a wild, surprised shriek of a male victim, and then an even more deafening sound: a ground-shaking roar.  I forgot my agony and sat up, turning to see what had happened, and the shock that I had felt only grew when I saw the scene before me.

Saruptal had been thrown across the room, and he was now standing, bent double with his back against a giant pillar, clutching his arm: his clothing across his back and the side of his body had been slashed and lay in shreds about him, bloodied.  He was looking at something that stood just behind me…and I followed his gaze with my own eyes…

And then I beheld the Beast at his most terrifying – totally ablaze with dragon fire, his huge eyes burning with infinite, unstoppable rage, his entire body turned black and armor-plated with scales, and fiery, spiky wings sprouted from his shoulder blades!  He spoke, and his voice was an earsplitting roar – and yet incredibly distinct and understandable all at the same time.

"_DON'T YOU TOUCH HER_!"

Saruptal stood up straight, becoming incredibly white, his eyes fixated with horror on the Beast – but then, his terror made him forget everything, even common sense, and his pride seemed to have gotten the better of him, for then he said, "You want to save your little witch?  All right – come on then!  But know that it'll have repercussions – that fire that you have invoked upon yourself unwittingly in your fury will do more than burn flesh.  It will stay with you forever – even if you _do_ find the one who can save you!"

The Beast's fire seemed to intensify, becoming a raging inferno, and he narrowed his glowing red eyes, fire bursting from his mouth and nostrils as he snorted.  Then, he spoke…and his words were the revelation that made me understand the truth.

"I've already found the one I want!"

Everything seemed to move in slow motion then.  They dived at each other, and all motion began to blur in front of me.  I could only dimly hear the sounds of the ongoing battle – my mind had totally reverted in on itself, and I could concentrate on nothing but my own thoughts.

_The one he wants…that is me.  He wants _me_.  He always has…and I want him too!  _I_ always have!  Ever since the beginning…before the beginning…in ages past.  We've been destined for each other, this is meant to be,_ we_ are meant to be!_

_I love him…_

"I must save him."

My words came forth from my lips almost without my realizing it.  Then, I abruptly came back to reality with a surge of renewed hope and determination.  I turned back towards the dueling pair, my eyes focusing on them with new intensity.

Destiny could never be thwarted – this wizard will not defeat us.

This is not the end!

I stood, but was unsure of what to do.

_Because of your valor and kindness, I will grant you any three wishes that you may desire to have fulfilled…_

And then I knew.

"I wish that this would stop."

It did.

Everything froze, except for the Beast and I.  He stared at Saruptal, who had fallen motionless to the floor, for a moment, in disbelief…and then he looked back at me, wonder and relief in his eyes.  "Beauty…" he whispered, and I smiled, however weakly, and held out my arms to him, replying, "Beast!"

He lost his fire then and was himself once more, and I ran to him—

But then everything went wrong.

Just over his shoulder, I saw that my wish had only come true for a moment's time.  Behind him, Saruptal stirred and got to his feet, slowly and painfully, his eyes fixed in a murderous glare at the back of my Beast's head.

"She may be the one you want…" he rasped, and his palms began to glow. "But let me tell you, bratling…you will _never_ have her!"

The killing magic came at me, I heard the Beast scream my name, and I braced myself for the impact, the final blow that would give me only a moment's pain, and then blissful darkness; I closed my eyes, and then—

It all happened at once, and it was much more painful than I could have ever imagined, but the darkness came much more quickly as well.  I opened my eyes, seemingly only seconds later, and gazed up into the large, golden, tear-filled eyes of my beloved as he held me in his arms.  

"Beauty," he said, his voice breaking.  I saw that the hazy golden dome of a shielding spell surrounded us.  Saruptal couldn't break through.

I would be able to say goodbye to my Beast.

"Beast." I whispered.

"I'm sorry, Beauty, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I'm sorry," he said, weeping, and I raised my hand to his face, with some effort.  Strange – I felt no pain, only a curious sense of calm and ease.  I was in shock.  I smiled, softly, as darkness began to well in the corners of my vision.

"Shh, Beast…it's all right.  It's all right," I told him.  I wouldn't let it end like this.  Our story deserved more…

"Arielle," he whispered.  "Arielle, no…"

"_I love you_."

*                       *                       *

I was unable to restrain the wild, uncontrollable scream of utter devastation – agony and bitter, tearing grief as I saw my enemy's blow, the one that should have been meant for me, shoot across the room and slam into her beautiful, slender body.  She withstood the blast, standing straight as it absorbed into her, making her light with a horrible red fire-like glow, and I could hear an awful, mind-breaking shriek on the air, surrounding us, as all motion seemed to slow.  

_Arielle!_

It wasn't until the next split second later, when I found the willpower to move – to get to her, that I realized the scream was my own.  Almost without thinking, I threw up an ancient, unbreakable shielding spell about us, catching her in my arms as she began to fall…wilting like a dying rose.  

Then I slowly lowered the both of us to the floor and a moment later, as I gazed at her pale, motionless face, she exhaled unsteadily and stirred, her eyelids fluttering open.  My breath caught in my suddenly tight throat, and I heard myself saying in a strangely detached, alien voice, "Beauty."

Her gaze turned upwards and I quickly looked to where she had been hit by Saruptal's magic, hoping vainly – hoping against hope – that it wouldn't be that bad, that there was a chance that she might be all right, that I could somehow save her…but my eyes told me that this was not possible.  Damage had been done here that no one, and no kind of any magic or enchantment, could undo.

I was going to lose something that I loved…again.

My vision was blurring and I struggled to control myself, not wanting for her to see me like this, not wanting to say goodbye in this way.

"Beast," she whispered, and the sound of her voice made it all the worse.  I couldn't hold myself back anymore – this new grief was too much.  "I'm sorry, Beauty, I'm so sorry, please forgive me, I'm so sorry."  The words came spilling out of my mouth and I was powerless to stop them; they just kept tumbling over and over one another, like my thoughts at that moment.  Then, I felt something on the side of my face – her hand.

I raised my own hand, placing it over hers, and gazed at her as she smiled at me – weakly, simply.  Beautifully.

"Shh, Beast…" she said, softly.  "It's all right.  It's all right."

_No – no, it's_ not_ all right!  This can't be how it's going to end!  No…_

"Arielle," I whispered, brokenly.  "Arielle, no…"

"I love you."

Then, her eyes slipped closed, her head dropping back against my arm as I cradled her body to my chest, and I felt my heart shattering into a million shards.

"_I love you too_."

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light – sharp, brilliant, almost painful.  I was dazzled by it.  A mere fraction of a second too late, I threw an arm over my face and bent down over Arielle's motionless, limp form, shielding her from whatever might be coming now.  A thousand new thoughts – worries, fears – were rushing through my mind then.  What _now_?  Had Saruptal somehow broken through the shield?  What was happening?

Arielle breathed in.

I started violently and sat up straight again, staring at her in unabashed, boundless shock, too stunned to move…as she began to breathe regularly, her eyes slowly opening in tandem with her lips, which parted slightly as her gaze focused on me.

She was alive – not dead, not wounded, not limp and silent, but _alive_!  

There was something strange in the air that moment: something very elusive and dazzling and enigmatic and bright, yet something that was all too very familiar.  Somehow, it seemed as if there was a great, invisible presence surrounding us, watching us and smiling secretly to itself, knowing the answers behind all mysteries…

Arielle's brow clouded as she looked on me then, her blue eyes darkening with some emotion that I could not comprehend in my disbelief and wonder, and she said, seeming confused, "Who…who _are_ you?"

_I'm me!  I am your Beast, the one who loves you – but what is happening?  Why are you—_  Then: _how…?_

For, as I looked at her, completely baffled and fearful, I now saw something out of the corner of my eye.  There was a long, slender, yet strong and masculine hand resting on her arm, lying wrapped around it like that of a possessive, ardent lover.  

I moved my fingers, gently rubbing my thumb against her soft skin.

The fingers on that other hand moved.

_Oh fates…_

Scarcely daring to hope that this new dawning fantasy of mine was actually real, I quickly took both of her hands in mine and raised us both to our feet, forcing my eyes to remain closed so that I would not give in to this insane, mad illusion that had somehow been cast before my eyes!  

I looked at her for one long, fearful moment, but – although she seemed as bewildered as I and also slightly frightened – she did not pull away from me.  Instead, she stared back into my eyes, still frowning slightly, her head inclined to one side in the display of confusion that I knew she always enacted in such times.  Our surroundings continued to glow with the same incredible, brilliant, clean white and gold light, making everything seem to shimmer and sparkle.

Then I turned my gaze down to our joined hands, drawing a deep breath…

_And saw that the hands who held hers were indeed my own._

It was over – the enchantment had ended.

*                       *                       *

I felt something wash over me as soon as I had heard the seemingly far-off, echoing words from my beloved: "_I love you too…_" 

_It was a strange, wonderful sensation: like a gentle, warm wave of seawater rolling over me as I looked up to the rippling, crystalline surface to the shining shards of sunlight above me.  It felt like being purified and made new, purged of all pain and darkness to the core of my heart, soul, and mind, in every pore of my skin, in every cell of my body.  Strength, serenity, and knowledge rushed into me, filling my entire being as a stream of pure water would fill a silver pitcher, ringing sweet and clear.  _

_The darkness that surrounded me gave a great, terrible, but dying shriek and released me from its talons, and I was free to fly back up to the surface: to the light.  _

_Nearer and nearer it came, and life coursed through me once more…_

I breathed in…

The first thing that greeted my senses upon my awakening was the sound of a soft, incredulous gasp, and the feeling of the warmth, power, and security in someone's strong, encircling arms: arms which held me closely, tenderly.

I opened my eyes.

_Oh fates…_

But who was this?  When I had fallen, struck down by the blast of evil magic from the wizard, it had been my Beast who had caught me, who had held me in my dying moments, remaining by my side.  Who was this, and what had happened to me?  

_I should be dead…but I'm not._

Now, instead of the familiar, scaly features and large, golden eyes of the Beast, I saw the face of a new person: the beautiful young faery from my visions.  However, as I gazed at him then, I realized that I had seen him elsewhere, in a place other than my strange dream…I had seen _those eyes_ before!  

_The masque ball…  _

He, meanwhile, was quite unknowing of my confusion – or he was for the moment, at least.  

He was just as fair as I remembered him, perhaps even more so now that I was seeing him face-to-face, mere inches from me, with his long, slender yet extremely well-developed arms wrapped warmly and securely about my body.  The warm, golden-brown, thick and unruly hair, its golden tones reflected in his smooth skin, the youthful features with their sensuous lips, straight, fine nose, high forehead, cleanly cut, firm chin, chiseled cheekbones, and arched eyebrows – they were all just as I had last seen them, as were his eyes: his large, intense, and beautiful eyes, with their long, dark eyelashes framing irises the colour of the bluest sky, the brightest sapphires.

This was most certainly a surprise: even a _shock_.  This man who now held me was beautiful beyond thought, almost beyond imagination, but he wasn't my Beast!  Where had my Beast gone: why had he left me?  What new sorcery was this?  And now, at last, I shall ask my questions…

I frowned.

"Who…who _are_ you?"

He started, a line forming between his own eyebrows, and I noticed that his pale gold complexion became a few shades lighter, and he stiffened, drawing back a little from me.  There was fear in his mesmerizing eyes now, I saw – fear _and_ disbelief.  His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, and his fingers, which lay along my arm as he cradled me in his lap, flexed slightly against my skin.

Suddenly, his eyes riveted themselves on those fingers.

He moved them again, and his body stiffened even more.

Quickly then, he quickly took both of my hands in his and raised us both to our feet, closing his eyes and keeping them closed until we stood facing one another.  He was tall – taller than most people I had ever known, but not quite as tall as my Beast, but he towered over me easily even at that.  Slowly, almost hesitantly, it seemed, he raised his head and looked at me for one long, spellbound, silent moment.

And much as I wanted to have my questions answered and to go find my Beast, that urgent desire was suddenly replaced by a strange new knowledge…

_I am meant to be here…stay._

So I did not pull away.  

He turned his gaze down to our joined hands, drawing a deep breath…and then froze, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  His head came up, jerking to face me once again, and I saw that the beginnings of an incredibly happy smile – the smile of someone who had just overcome some great trial, someone who had just been set free from a bondage that looked to be inescapable – were on his handsome face.

And then it dawned on me.

_Of course I knew who this was!  How could I have _ever_ missed it?_

"Arielle…Beauty…it's _me_."

It was.  There was no mistaking that this man who stood before me, grinning uncontrollably into my eyes, was my Beast.  

The same rakish, but sincere and knowing curve of the lips was there, as was the endearing cock of the head and sparkle of the eyes – the _voice_.  This was he…and now it was finally all clear to me.  He had been under a curse: a curse that Saruptal, the corrupted wizard, had cast on him some three hundred years before.  And now, because of us – because of our incredible, undying love – the spell was broken, the enchantment lifted, and he was free to be himself once more.

And I loved him.

Unable to restrain my incredible happiness, I joyously threw my arms around his neck, drawing him closer to me, so that we were touching.  Then, I looked up into his eyes, smiling ecstatically at him, and spoke the words that I knew were true.

"_Of course_ it's you!"

He grinned, and then he moved his own hand to take one of mine from behind his neck, bringing it down between us and raising it briefly – gently, tenderly, to his perfect lips.  The very earth around us seemed to be singing a great world song of joy!  

"Arielle," he said.  Then he inclined his head to one side, considering me. "My Beauty."

"My Beast."

And then he bent forwards, and his lips came down on mine.  We melded together sweetly, passionately, truly: our love reflected and felt in that one, perfect kiss.  I felt as if fireworks were going off inside of my head, exploding with brilliant, effervescent sparkles into the air around us as his lips caressed mine.  My mind was overthrown with the glorious rapture of our kiss, with the passion and tenderness of the strength of his arms around me.  

The embrace seemed to last ages, going on for lifetimes, an entire beautiful eternity.  When we parted, and the power of our combined strengths, love, and will crackled in the air around us, like lightning that was about to strike.  

My love raised his hand, taking it from my waist, and made a swift, smooth motion, gesturing as someone who was tearing down a rack of curtains might, and, instantly, the shielding spell broke apart, with the sound of muffled breaking glass, falling down on itself in a shower of fading golden sparks.  When it had disappeared into the floor, we turned our faces as one and faced the intruder who had done his very best to ruin our lives and wreak havoc on our existence.

"It is over, wizard." My love's smooth, golden tenor voice rang out with power, pride, and nobility: with strength and conviction and triumph, for he knew that we had won. "You have failed – your betrayal has come to nothing, your curse has been lifted.  You have no power here.  _She_ has won – _I_ have won."

The wizard stared at us for exactly one moment, and then he gave off a horrible, almost animal-like howl of complete and utter, dire rage.  He rushed at us, but we were more than ready for his attack.  Together, at the same moment, we raised our hands, extending our arms to their full length, palms outward.  

White magic issued forth from my hand, pale green from his, and shot across the room towards our enemy, who did not have a single split second's time to form a counter-attack or to defend himself.  Our magic whirled up and around him in a blazing, bright inferno, hiding him within itself, and then, with the sound of shattering glass, it burst into pieces: shards of light flying out into the room.

Then everything was silent; the wizard was gone.

My love dropped his head, letting his forehead come to rest against mine, and we remained there, still and wordless, for a long, long moment, eyes closed, arms draped about one another.  Then, finally, he lifted his head, eyes flicking to meet mine, and he smiled: simply, softly, sincerely.

"It's over, my love."

All I could think to do in that moment – when it finally occurred to me that it really was all over, that we had defeated the greatest evil in our lives together, and broken the ties of the curse that had bound him – was give one incredulous exclamation of wonder and joy and relief, all combined into one, and fling my arms about his neck again.  He sought my lips with his again, and for a blissful while after that, there was no need for words: only soft, possessive caresses and the gentle brushing of lips.  Finally, then, he turned my face up to his, gazing deeply into my eyes, smiling at me.

"I can't believe this – it's just…it's all too wonderful, too incredible.  I thought that my life was over: that I would never find a way out of the enchantment.  But you – _you_!" His smile broadened into a white, flashing grin, and he raised his hand to the side of my face, cupping my cheek with his palm, and I smiled back at him happily. "You were the one, and because of you, everything will be right again."

"Everything." I murmured, and buried my head in his strong, firm chest: hesitant – as if it was the first time that I had ever done so.  Perhaps I felt this way because I now found myself facing this incredibly beautiful faery nobleman, whom I had never really known before, perhaps it was because of the way that he was looking at me: as if I was the princess that he had been searching for all of his life, the one person with whom he desired to spend all eternity…_perhaps_…

He brushed his lips against my brow, cradling me in his arms, and I knew that, no matter what form he was in, this man was my lover; he knew it as well as I did, and all was right: this was destiny.  Our destiny.  _And how happy I am that it is…_

"Oh, my darling." he murmured, his lips against my ear, reassuring and loving and tender. "Arielle." A pause. "I love you."

"I love _you_." I replied, ardently: meaning the words with all my heart, all of my being.  Then, something ironic occurred to me; I lifted my head from his chest and looked up into his face, scrutinizing him wryly but affectionately.

"But…what _is_ your name, exactly?  I don't think I ever got that before."

He grinned even more broadly and laughed, a truly enchanting sound.  Then he put both of his hands on my waist and lifted me clean off of my feet, off of the white marble floor, and swung me around in a circle, my hair and gown swirling about us.  He set me down, letting his hands remain resting atop my hips as he gazed at me, knowingly – almost teasingly, as he had done so many times before.

"No, my love, you didn't."

A maddening pause.

"My name is Orlando…and did I say that I loved you?"

I laughed as well then, softly, caressing the side of his face with my fingers.

"Yes…but say it again…Orlando."

He leaned towards me again, thick, long lashes sliding down to fringe over his sapphire eyes, lips parting as he murmured, ardently and adoringly: "I _love_ you…"

*                       *                       *                       *                       *                       *

Author's note: And right now, ladies and gents, if this was a movie, the camera would angle up, away from the happy couple, and look to the fancy stained glass skylight far above, patterned with roses and vines and what-have-you, with the sun shining brilliantly in from behind it, and a huge choral piece would soar into the air, and close with a final black-out…  But it's not (yet…), and there's still (happily) an epilogue, hosted by *gasp!* wonder-who?, in which you will find a fitting end to the story.  

As for now, however, since I _don't_ have that part written up yet, please leave a review for me?  @à---  


	22. Epilogue Beauty and her Prince

Author's note:  See?  I promise an epilogue to tie things up, I update often, I don't leave you hanging…who's your friend?  Come on now; say it – who's your friend?  ^_*  'Kay, anyways, here's the epilogue, hope you enjoy it…

**Rosethorn**:  *laughs* So…my evil secret is out – Mercedes Lackey influences me.  Okay, well, perhaps just a_ bit_ – I guess you can't avoid them _slightly_ resembling one another if you're going to have the hero and heroine facing off against the bad guy together.  But I _am_ a big fan of the Fire Rose and Mercedes Lackey, so…  Hehehe – I can definitely see Gavin having a problem with the cat.  You remember his reaction to the weyre wolf in Wings of the Heart?  Point proven.  But, you know, whatever it takes…  (And PS, about the scary monster: have you seen the Fellowship of the Ring movie?  Okay, if you have, remember the Balrog?  Think that when you imagine the Beast in that last scene.)

**Chien**:  I'm glad you liked the end of the last chapter there, and now I suppose no one can ever doubt that I'll leave my main characters to unhappy, dismal endings.  I'm just predictable like that.  ^_* As for Saruptal: I realized that I left his fate kind of up in the air, but I hope that in this chapter I've cleared that up a bit.  And I am very pleased to know that you think this would make a good book.  I'm working on getting it (and Wings of the Heart) published, but it's taking its own precious time… 

**LadyElf**:  A cat named Aragorn and a cousin named Pippin?  Sweet!  As for me, I'm probably the biggest Tolkien fan in my family, and everybody seems to know it…  And thank you for the lovely review, once again!

**Cori**:  Hehehe, a partnership between Kates and Disney.  'Twould seem a good way for Kates to pay her way through college, I daresay.  Umm…anything else of my stuff?  Well, I suppose if you're a big fantasy person, then the story that came before this in the series (_Wings of the Heart_) would be something you might like.  Anything else…check out the list on my profile.  ^_^

**Chibi Hime**:  Thank you as well for your nice review, and I'm glad that you like Orlando.  He may be a bit of a brat at first, but in the end, you really have to love him.  And I'm also glad that you found his appearance to your liking – the other, furry versions are nice, but I thought it might be more interesting to change things up a bit!  That, and I love dragons too.  I love your version of Jackie Chan meets BatB as well – didn't get around to reviewing right at the moment, but I liked it a lot!   

Disclaimer/claimer:  I'm not writing it again.  Go read the one in the last chapter if you really want a disclaimer and claimer – I'm done with those right now, so here's the story.  ^_^

– Epilogue –

Beauty and her Prince 

_" '…A wicked fairy had condemned me to remain under that shape until a beautiful maiden should consent to marry me.  The fairy likewise enjoined me to conceal my understanding.  There was only you in the world generous enough to be won by the goodness of my temper, and in offering you my crown I can't discharge the obligations I have to you.'_

_Beauty, agreeably surprised, gave the prince her hand to rise; they went together into the castle, and Beauty was overjoyed to find, in the great hall, her father and his whole family, whom the beautiful lady, that appeared to her in her dream, had conveyed thither._

_'Beauty,' said this lady, 'come and receive the reward of your judicious choice; you have preferred virtue before either wit or beauty, and deserve to find a person in whom all these qualifications are united.  You are going to be a great queen.  I hope the throne will not lessen your virtue, or make you forget yourself. As to you, ladies,' said the fairy to Beauty's two sisters, 'I know your hearts, and all the malice they contain.  Become two statues, but, under this transformation, still retain your reason.  You shall stand before your sister's palace gate, and be it your punishment to behold her happiness; and it will not be in your power to return to your former state, until you own your faults, but I am very much afraid that you will always remain statues.  Pride, anger, gluttony, and idleness are sometimes conquered, but the conversion of a malicious and envious mind is a kind of miracle.'_

_Immediately the fairy gave a stroke with her wand, and in a moment all that were in the hall were transported into the prince's dominions.  His subjects received him with joy.  He married Beauty, and lived with her many years, and their happiness – as it was founded on virtue – was complete."_

Well.

A rather interesting way to tell such a story, don't you think?

Only Beauty herself could be so giving.

And what makes you say that, my prince?

Hmm.  That impish little sparkle in your lovely blue eyes tells me that you have more than _somewhat_ of an idea about what made me say that, but I think you're going to make me tell you anyway.

Hmm _indeed_.

Ah.  

Well?

All right – they're getting several things very wrong.

Tell me.

Promise me something if I do.

Promise you something?  Promise you what?

…A kiss.

You are _impossible_, Prince Orlando!

Impossible?  Yes.  But I love you.

…I love you too…  Fine then: the terms of our…_agreement_, are decided.  A kiss, for your words.

All right.  First off – I rather pity the mortals.  They will tell this story for centuries to come, and they will most likely never know the truth behind it all.  They will probably never know that Beauty's jealous sisters were _really_ her stepmother and stepsister…who got turned into white rabbits for seven years as punishment for their unkindness and evil, a courtesy done to the world by the faery High Council of the White Realm, at the hand of Lord Orandor himself.

Poor Nelisia – poor Tizirra.  I wish…I wish it hadn't had to be that way.

As do I…but then again, my love, we _all_ wish that evil didn't have to be in our world, yet it is.  We can only live our lives and be thankful that we are allowed an existence: destiny is _destiny_.

True.  …No one else in the mortal world will ever know that the Beast was really a powerful enchanter either…

And they'll come up with goodness-knows-what appearance for him – who would expect that he looked like a dragon?

A rather _attractive_ dragon…

Oh _really_ now?  You know, I think we ought to go on before I am tempted to collect on my payment before I've completed my duty.

La!  So honourable, milord!  Go on then.

Well…the Beast's nightly proposals of marriage were an interesting touch, and certainly _romantic_, but no one would ever guess that he didn't know anything about how his spell was supposed to be broken, let alone that making her fall in love with him would be the way.  They also wouldn't anticipate an adventure with a giant and a group of erstwhile animal performers, a run-in with one of the prince's old friends: enchanted to be a goose, a masque ball, and a desperate, last-ditch attempt to save the entire faery world from a traitorous wizard who wound up blown into a thousand tiny bits of magic after a battle with the pair.

And that the only reason why their magic destroyed him was because it was magnified with the power of the other faeries, who knew of the wizard's treachery and had sent their magical aid to the scene of the battle?  …No, I suppose they really _wouldn't_.

What are you laughing about now, my sweet Rosebud?

Only the fact that there is indeed quite a lot more to this story of Beauty and the Beast than anyone would ever think, especially after reading this rendition of it…but…it _is_ a lovely story though: truly beautiful, in many, _many_ ways.

Just like us?

Mmm…just like us…

…

You know though…they did get _one_ thing absolutely right.

And what is that?__

_'He married Beauty, and lived with her many years, and their happiness – as it was founded on virtue – was complete'._  To paraphrase then, my love…

And they lived happily ever after.

The End

Cast (just for fun – and because I like to have faces that I know on my characters!)

Orlando/Beast: Jude Law

Arielle Laclarien: Alicia Silverstone

Griffith: John Hannah

Saruptal: I don't really have an actor for him…suggestions, anyone?

Doran Laclarien: Sam Neill (hey, what _can't _a good makeup artist do?)

Nelisia Argonté-Laclarien: Stockard Channing

Tizirra Argonté-Laclarien: Courtnee Draper

Elladine, Queen of Lærelin: Natalie Portman

Arin, King of Lærelin: Orlando Bloom as Legolas from Lord of the Rings

Gavin, Prince of the White Realm: Jensen Ackles

Ingor the Giant: He is all from my own imagination…and yours.  ^_*

Voice of Elenette the Spryte: Annabelle Lanyon (Oona, from Legend)

The Golden Genie: I don't really have a face for him yet – any ideas…?

And if I've missed anyone else in the 'cast': your pardon, please…

Author's note:  *sniff* That's it…I've finished another one.  Officially completed on Monday, December 30th of 2002, the second installment of my Travelers of Enchantment series – _My Beauty, My Beast_ – is now a full-length novel in its own right, just like its predecessor, _Wings of the Heart_.  

So now what do I do?  I go off to write another story: the third part of the Travelers of Enchantment Series, a retelling of Rumpelstiltskin, untitled as of yet.  And I'll give you a bit of a teaser about it (although this isn't a movie…) – we will all be introduced to a race of people not too unlike the faeries…people with _pointy ears_.   

However, until then, I hope that you have enjoyed this as much as I have enjoyed writing it, and thank you to all of the wonderful people who have reviewed.  (And I never mind lengthy reviews; I _like _them, so don't worry!  By the way, what were your favorite parts?  I'm just curious and thought I would take a consensus from my readers…)  Thank you to all of the people who reviewed while I was posting this *takes a deep breath*: Chibi Hime, gypsy*princess, KittenGirl555, Cori, LadyElf, Rosethorn, Fae Queen, Chien, CapturedHeart, snowylove-angel, Bil, Melusine, Artic, Lexi, Fumblepaws, storychick, and Lis.  And also to those who may have yet to review.  ^_*

Until next time then…

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